Mister Cellophane
by Bertie Bott
Summary: Rating for further chapters-NOT a songfic... A potion gone wrong turns Severus invisible. It's amazing the things one can learn when people think that they're only talking to themselves. COMPLETE!
1. Into Thin Air

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Harry Potter or any related characters in any way, shape or form.everything you recognize belongs to Rowling.anything else was taken out of my twisted little brain.  
  
(A/N): I wanted to do a relatively light fic, but I can't promise it'll stay that way.please review with any ideas/advice for the direction of the plot.I hope you all enjoy!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 1 ~*~  
  
He was in deep shit; there was simply no other way to put it.  
  
Cursing colorfully under his breath, Severus Snape sighed and raked a withering hand through his hair.  
  
What was he going to do? Merlin, he had no idea if there was anything he could do.  
  
Stopping his maddening pacing, Severus briskly went to gaze into his mirror for the umpteenth time, being met with the same thing he had seen before.  
  
Nothing, absolutely nothing; he had no reflection.  
  
Muttering another explicit curse, Severus snapped back into his pacing.  
  
It was his own bloody fault, he knew. He, of all people, should have known the unpredictability of testing experimental potions on a person, especially on oneself.  
  
But he had been weary and tired of the potion that had drained his resources day after day and had wanted it to be over and done with. So Severus, for the first time in a very long while, threw caution into the wind and gulped down the potion he was almost positive was correct.  
  
But he had been wrong, no matter how much he had convinced himself he never was, and it seemed that while in the long, tiring process of trying to create a potion to help resist the Imperius curse, he had accidentally stumbled upon a variation of an invisibility potion. Which would be a great accomplishment in and of itself if it wasn't for one small, tiny detail- he had absolutely no clue how to reverse it.  
  
Which brought about the question he had been feverishly asking himself over and over again for the past forty-five minutes: what was he going to do?  
  
"Sweet Merlin, how could I have been so dense," he growled angrily to himself, "It was a stupid mistake worthy of that dunce Longbottom."  
  
Pinching the bridge of his large nose, Severus forced himself to stop pacing and to bring his raging thoughts to an eerily calm order.  
  
Dumbledore; the name shown out in his dark, furious mind like a lighthouse beacon of light shining out into a raging storm.  
  
That old fool knows everything; he'll fix it, he mentally assured himself as he strode over to his fireplace with a new purpose.  
  
Lifting up his wand, which appeared to be floating on its own accord, he lit the fire and tossed in a liberate handful of floo powder, watching in satisfaction as the merrily crackling fire turned into a vibrant, Slytherin green color.  
  
Stepping into the flames he spoke clearly, if somewhat more nervously than usual, "Headmaster's office!"  
  
In a swirl of colors, Severus found himself stepping gracefully out of the fireplace and into Albus Dumbledore's office, muttering even more obscenities under his breath as he dusted off the ashes from his invisible self.  
  
"Why, Severus, what a pleasure it is to see you," Albus's eyes twinkled as he smiled over in his general direction.  
  
"Albus, I am in no mood for your particular brand of humor," Severus grouched, shooting the Headmaster his patented glare of death, even though he logically knew the older wizard could not see it.  
  
Like it would make a difference even if he could, he silently miffed to himself.  
  
"What exactly seems to have you so distressed, my dear boy?" inquired Albus innocently enough.  
  
Pushing down the growl that wanted to surface, Severus remarked dryly, "Well, I should think it to be obvious- I'm invisible."  
  
"Why yes, Severus, I can see that for myself," he said quite cheerfully, "But I fail to realize what the problem is."  
  
Severus groaned, hating to be forced into admitting he didn't know something. "I'm invisible and I don't know how to turn back," he elaborated.  
  
Albus tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "My, that is a pickle. I presume this is a result of sampling a prototype of your Imperius resistance potion?"  
  
Severus narrowed his eyes. "Yes," he ground out.  
  
"I see it has a few unexpected side effects," Albus keenly observed.  
  
"Honestly, Albus, must you insist on being difficult? My day is wearisome enough without your impudence," Severus proclaimed, dangerously close to whining.  
  
"It's not impudence, dear boy, it's called having a sense of humor," Albus retorted wisely.  
  
"Yes, yes," Severus waved off his statement, repeating desperately, "But what am I going to do, Albus?"  
  
"Why, I should think it to be obvious," Albus smirked as he echoed Severus's words from before.  
  
Severus sneered viciously, only stopping in surprise when Albus chuckled good-naturedly and said, "You shouldn't sneer so much, Severus; it gives you wrinkles."  
  
Bemusedly, Severus plopped into a cushy arm chair in front of the Headmaster's desk in an uncharacteristic lack of grace and sighed, "Albus, I'd appreciate it very much so if you would just state your point."  
  
Taking pity on the younger wizard, Albus dimmed his megawatt smile and said gently, "You must research and find the counter-potion, Severus."  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't you think I've already thought of that? It's not that simple Albus, and you know it. Even if I do research to find the counter-potion, there's still no guarantee that there is one. It could take months, even years! And what about my classes, Albus? How will you find a Potions Master to fill in on such short notice? And I'm not even going to mention the fact that I could be summoned at any moment," he proclaimed, stressing the word 'summoned'.  
  
Albus just continued to smile in that annoyingly, calm manner. "Perhaps, you should hear me out before you condemn me as a fool, old man. Professor Maul, the Muggle Studies director, minored in Potions at Salem University, and since she only has two classes a week, she should be capable of taking over your classes for the time being. As to you being summoned, I feel that if we spread the word that you have left on a highly secret mission for me for the duration of two months, Riddle will feel compelled to at least wait until it is known that you are back before he receives you. He will not risk summoning you while you're out working for me. And as to the fact that researching your new potion would take quite some time on your own, I fear there is only one plausible solution," he trailed off.  
  
Severus frowned. "And what, may I ask, would that be?"  
  
"Do not do it by yourself; take on a lab partner," Albus said quite simply.  
  
"Out of the question," Severus pronounced.  
  
"Really, Severus, do not be unreasonable. I know you are a man used to his own space, but really, under the circumstances, I fear sacrifices must be made," Albus attempted to soothe him as best as he could.  
  
"Even if, and this, Albus, is a very big 'if'," he stressed, "Even if I decided to take on a lab partner, just who do you propose? Professor Maul will be too busy with my classes as well as hers, and there is no one else that I'm aware of that has the type of knowledge and mind that is required for this type of research."  
  
Albus turned his smile up a few notches, "Why Severus, am I mistaken when saying that Hermione Granger is at the top of your class and would be quite capable of assisting you in this project, seeing as she is quite familiar with the Hogwarts restricted section?"  
  
Severus stared at him, sitting rigidly still as he hissed, "I won't do it."  
  
Albus only chuckled, saying, "My dear boy, it is not as if you actually have a choice in the matter. I'm afraid she is the only one suitable for your purposes, and she is quite capable of keeping a secret."  
  
"That is not the point, Albus, and you know it. The girl is an absolute nuisance, and even if I did allow her to assist me, there is no guarantee that she would. The girl positively loathes me, and I say, the feeling is entirely mutual," he said quite smugly, clearly thinking that he had proved his point.  
  
The smug smile that Albus imagined Severus to be wearing to match his haughty voice made him chuckle, saying amusedly, "My dear man, Hermione Granger is a Gryffindor. If I ask her to perform this as some sort of independent study project, and to remain silent about it, she'll feel honor bound to oblige."  
  
Severus shot the older wizard a calculating glance as he noted, "That's quite Slytherin of you, Albus. Are you sure you were sorted into the correct house?"  
  
Albus chuckled good-naturedly. "Well, I don't know Severus, it has been some years since my sorting, but I rather think it is just you rubbing off on me. Either way, you must admit that the idea does hold some merit."  
  
Albus grinned when he heard Severus mumble something incomprehensibly. "What was that, dear boy? I'm afraid you'll have to speak up, my hearing isn't what it used to be, you know."  
  
"Damn it all, Albus! I said that your little Gryffindor princess may assist me!" Severus exploded, shooting out of the comfy arm chair in anger and annoyance.  
  
"Splendid! I shall speak to Miss Granger tomorrow. Have a pleasant evening, my child; and do please take a lemon drop," Albus said, gesturing with a wave to the candy dish on his desk and looking quite happy with himself as he whistled a jaunty tune.  
  
Severus gave him one last glare for good measure and pointedly did not pick up one of the proffered candies before he made to exit the office via fireplace.  
  
It could be worse, he attempted to console himself as his invisible form stalked towards the fireplace. At least he wasn't stuck with that dunce Longbottom. 


	2. A Special Moment

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, still do not own Harry Potter or any related characters in any way, shape or form.much to my dismay.  
  
(A/N): WOW! 11 reviews! I'm so happy I could burst! And look.your reviews motivated me to update as soon as I could! More reviews = faster updates!!! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.I'm rather fond of it myself.  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 2 ~*~  
  
Severus paced in what he assured himself to be annoyance. It had to be annoyance, he told himself, because it most assuredly was not nervousness.  
  
It was only five minutes after their designated meeting time, but that didn't stop Severus from growling in barely suppressed rage and promising himself that he'd make up for her tardiness with twenty points from Gryffindor for each more minute she was late.  
  
As it now stood, he had already deducted thirty for her persistent absence.  
  
Severus Snape liked to think of himself as a very fair man, but really, the impertinent girl was pushing it. It was intolerable that she should ever be late to any of their sessions, especially their first one.  
  
Sighing in annoyance, Severus paced in the opposite direction.  
  
"That's it," he finally snapped, coming to a rigid halt to the left of the door to his office. "Another thirty points from Gryffindor."  
  
Although, he thought, he really should be awarding her points for sparing him her annoying and unwelcome presence.  
  
At that thought, the door to his private office all but slammed open to admit a panting, much disheveled Hermione Granger.  
  
*That* will teach me to think of awarding points to Gryffindor, Severus told himself dryly.  
  
He opened his mouth to let out a truly scathing remark to the girl, but she spoke before he did, surprising him into a slightly curious silence.  
  
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she groaned, trying to right her robes, straighten her tie, smooth her slightly wild hair, and adjust her stack of books all at once.  
  
Severus felt his lips twitch in amusement as he suddenly recalled that she had no clue he was in the room, therefore she would not notice if he eavesdropped on her little soliloquy.  
  
"Stupid Malfoy!" she continued, catching him slightly by surprise. "Stupid Malfoy, and his stupid slimy face, and his stupid wandering hands! He deserves that slap and ten more for what he just tried to do! I should have hexed him the second I felt him pinch my arse! And why would he want to pinch my Muggleborn arse, anyway?" she asked herself, moving her robe aside in an attempt to get a better look at the offending body part.  
  
"I mean, it's not even a great bum. It's just a bum!" she stressed, her annoyance evident in her voice.  
  
Severus, who had the perfect view of her arse given her current pose and his position behind her, had to disagree with her rather low self-esteem remarks on her bum.  
  
It was a rather nice arse, in his opinion.  
  
"I swear, by Merlin, if that slimy, arrogant, egotistical prick ever lays a hand on my arse again, I will hex his bits and pieces into clam chowder!" she thundered as she gave up her precarious hold on her tower of books and finally allowed them to fall gracelessly to the floor by the chair she proceeded to plop herself down in with a huff.  
  
"Very eloquent, Miss Granger," Severus remarked, grinning evilly when the young girl flinched in her seat and then paled in horror as she looked about the room.  
  
"Pro-Professor Snape, sir?" she asked in a small voice, her earlier passion and temper completely vanished.  
  
She sounded as though she thought she had only been hearing things, he noticed, his amusement growing by the minute.  
  
It'd be best if he dissuaded her of those hopeful notions before they took a deep root.  
  
"Yes, unfortunately for you, Miss Granger," he said in dark tones that revealed nothing.  
  
Hermione licked her lips and nodded to herself, as if she should have known that he'd been there all along.  
  
There was a moment of tense silence from her before she muttered, "Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid Granger!"  
  
Severus covered up his chuckle with a cough to clear his throat. "As much as I'd like to agree with your present and previous assertions, Miss Granger, I must disagree with you on both," he said dryly, deftly making his way over to his chair behind the desk.  
  
Hermione started in slight surprise when she saw the heavy, high-backed chair pull back seemingly of its own accord. She gave a distracted nod, only half listening to him.  
  
Severus smirked at her flinch. Perhaps his situation wasn't so bad, after all.  
  
"As it is, you have wasted enough of my time with you ramblings, and you will not further waste my time in the future, understood?" he snapped.  
  
Hermione nodded readily. "Yes, sir," she agreed.  
  
"Good," he said briskly. "Now, as my lab assistant you should be briefed on the potion you will be working with me to reverse. What do you know of it so far?"  
  
Hermione, feeling steady and on more familiar ground, answered surely, "It's a prototype you've developed to help resist the Imperius curse, inspired by an invisibility potion. The three base components were: phoenix ash, dragon's breath, and crocodile tears. I assume that your invisibility, which was the outcome of your testing the potion, is a result of one or more of the base ingredients canceling the others out, thus turning it into a variation of the invisibility potion it so closely resembles."  
  
Severus was suddenly thankful that she could not see his expression, for he was unable to hide both his surprise and pleasure at her mini-lecture.  
  
He had always known that the girl was bright, but really, he had not expected her to be a genius, which was exactly what she had to be in order to have given such a detailed, thorough, and accurate response. It had taken Severus the better part of one and a half days (which was incredible and impressive itself) to research and come to the same conclusions, whereas Hermione had only been aware of the predicament since earlier that same morning.  
  
Very impressive, he thought grudgingly; not that he'd let her know he thought so, of course.  
  
"I am of much of the same opinion, Miss Granger," he said mildly.  
  
Hermione bit her lip nervously. "Um, sir, have you been experiencing any other side effects from the potion? I mean, besides the obvious?"  
  
Severus frowned, not following her train of thought. "What are you getting at, Granger," he sneered, finding himself back on familiar territory with the girl and her annoying questions.  
  
"Well, I was just wondering if you even bothered to see if the potion was successful in deflecting Imperius, that way we could focus our time only on eliminating the invisibility effect, and not the desired one, sir," Hermione said with more than a little bite in her tone.  
  
Severus sucked in a breath of air. Of course he hadn't checked and now he hated the girl for pointing this out and making him look like a first year dunderhead.  
  
He had had the upper hand only moments ago, what with her having talked about her arse and unknowingly giving him a splendid view of it. But now?  
  
Oh how the mighty have fallen, he thought bitterly.  
  
"The thought has crossed my mind, Miss Granger," he easily lied. "But I can't really cast Imperius on myself, now can I?"  
  
Hermione frowned while ignoring his obvious anger, and mused aloud to herself, "I wonder if we can find someone to do it for us? I don't think I can, but I've never tried it before.so maybe I could, but it'd be risky."  
  
Severus was astonished, and was tired of being so. Clearly he did not know Hermione Granger, goody, no-nonsense, know-it-all, as well as he thought he did if she was now seriously considering using an Unforgivable Curse, even if it was for the sake of research.  
  
He was beginning to doubt that anybody besides her two Gryffindor partners in crime really knew her.  
  
"I hardly think Albus would approve of mine allowing an Unforgivable Curse cast in his halls," Severus remarked, slightly distracted by the fact that Albus had, indeed, allowed Imperius to be cast not even a full two years ago by the Moody imposter.  
  
"Perhaps you're right," Hermione conceded, worrying on her lower lip in a way that entranced Severus for some inane reason. "At any rate, I think that it'd be best if we established whether or not the potion does, in fact, work before we continue."  
  
Glancing up sharply when she ceased to nibble on her lip, Severus felt as though he was once again losing the upper hand. "I shall endeavor to do so, Miss Granger. For now, I have had my notes duplicated; I suggest you take your copy and spend the night reviewing the potion and its properties. I refuse to allow your ignorance to delay our desired results," he said haughtily.  
  
And, just as he had known she would, Hermione bit her lip to keep back her scathing retort.  
  
That's more like it, he thought in stark approval, these are my dungeons and I give the orders around here; she'd do well to remember that.  
  
"Yes, sir," she replied dutifully once she was certain her voice would not betray her anger.  
  
"Good," he said gruffly. "Take the notes and spare me your presence."  
  
Hermione glared again, but obediently took the notes in question off the desk and shoved them into her bag. Gathering her belongings in another tower of leaning books, Hermione made for the door, uttering a terse, "Goodnight, professor. I do hope you deign to notify me of when you should like to reconvene."  
  
Severus, who always had to have the last word in an argument, snapped in a self-aggrandizing way, "I will try to do so, Miss Granger. Oh, and that would be another thirty points from Gryffindor for your tardiness. Do try to be on time for our next meeting, it'd be a pity for Gryffindor to lose anymore points due to your negligence."  
  
Hermione huffed indignantly, turning on her heel and exiting the room with a million thoughts and insults spinning in her head as she made the long trek back to her Common Room.  
  
Frowning, she replayed their conversation in her mind.  
  
It was after the second run through of the events when Hermione came to a dead halt as she finally registered some of his earlier words.  
  
"I mean, it's not even a great bum. It's just a bum!" she had said aloud, unaware that there was an invisible occupant in the room and that she had been giving that occupant a rather nice view of her arse.  
  
"As much as I'd like to agree with your present and previous assertions, Miss Granger, I must disagree with you on both," he had said after he heard her berating herself for her stupidity.  
  
It's not even a great bum. Stupid, stupid, stupid.  
  
Present and previous assertions. I must disagree with you on both.  
  
Professor Snape thinks I have a nice arse, she mentally gasped in surprise, fighting down an odd feeling of pleasure at the notion. 


	3. Love to Hate You

Disclaimer: Ummm.checking, and yes.I, unfortunately, STILL do not own Harry Potter or any related characters in any way, shape or form.much to my dismay.  
  
(A/N): I am really loving all of your reviews.I'm up to 25 and I'm ecstatic! More reviews and criticism is greatly appreciated and encouraged.hope this was worth the little wait.  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 3 ~*~  
  
"That potion is to be stirred counter clockwise seven times in exactly seventy seconds, no more, no less," Snape fairly ordered authoritatively from somewhere behind her.  
  
With her back safely to him, Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Yes, sir," she responded obediently.  
  
One would think that after seven years with her in his class and over two weeks of their private tutorials Professor Snape would know she could brew the standard invisibility potion with one hand tied behind her back.  
  
He probably does know, she thought bitterly as she began to stir the potion after the time was up. He just doesn't want me to think he's impressed or some such nonsense.  
  
After two long, grueling weeks of NEWT level classes, Head Girl duties, and private sessions with Professor Snape, Hermione was finally reaching her wits end.  
  
Honestly, she thought as she viciously stirred the potion; it wouldn't hurt the man to at least let me brew this potion without him breathing down my neck waiting for the smallest mistake so he can take off points.  
  
Sadistic bloke, she smiled grimly.  
  
"If you'll cease spilling the potion all over my desk, Miss Granger, it is almost time to add in the sphinx's hair," she could literally hear the sneer in his voice.  
  
Looking back down at her desk, Hermione's anger flared indignantly.  
  
Three drops; a measly three drops had flicked out of her cauldron and he had the audacity to claim that she was spilling it all over his ruddy desk!  
  
And it wasn't even a nice desk, she thought absurdly. An old, worn, massive oak desk stained with his many failed potion experiments.  
  
And he was complaining about three bloody drops of a clear colored potion that was guaranteed not to stain!  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously, knowing that if the man was thick enough to continue his insulting, she'd explode. The past two weeks she had expertly repressed every emotion when working with him, and now she could feel every spark of anger she had pushed away rushing back to further fuel her present ire.  
  
"If you're quite finished day dreaming, Miss Granger, I'd like to be able to finish this simple potion before the next millennia," he very unwisely continued.  
  
That's it, she thought grimly. The man obviously had a death wish.  
  
"Yes, sir, I am quite finished," she muttered in a dark warning that he either ignored, or did not notice---the wretched, foolish man.  
  
"Good," he snapped, "Now, if you'll add in-"  
  
"Let me finish," she abruptly snapped, dropping the stirring rod and turning around to glare at the point where she supposed he was standing. "I am quite finished with YOU, Professor Snape. For these past two weeks you have done nothing but berate my performance as if I were nothing more than a doddering first year! You have insulted me with your childish sneers repeatedly, and I'm done with it, do you hear me? It's not my bloody fault YOU blundered up your ruddy potion! I have done nothing but take your verbal abuse and try to help you fix your current invisible state! If we are going to proceed in our research, I must ask you to remove the stick from your arse and let me work in peace! Otherwise, I will not let you waste any more of my time! Do I make myself clear, sir? And for Merlin's sake, put on a bloody robe so I know where you are!"  
  
She finished, finding herself halfway across the room with her hands on her hips and her chest huffing from the adrenaline rush.  
  
Silence reigned.  
  
And as the seconds ticked by, Hermione felt a sudden thread of fear shiver up her spine as she suddenly recalled something.  
  
Professor Snape, she had noticed throughout the years, did not respond well to threats.  
  
And as he saw the realization dawn in her eyes, Severus smirked, knowing that the advantage was his.  
  
Silently, he slinked towards her, thoroughly enjoying her speechlessness after such an impressive tirade. And he was impressed, he admitted while taking another step closer towards her.  
  
And he'd be even more impressed if the damn girl didn't look so fetching, glaring at the air where she assumed he had been standing, a righteous fire gleaming in her eyes.  
  
Let's not go there, Severus old boy, he mentally chided himself.  
  
"Miss Granger," he purred into her ear, secretly delighting when she started and then shivered at his close proximity.  
  
"Y-Yes, sir?" she faltered slightly before some of her courage reappeared and she lifted her chin in defiance.  
  
"I fear you have forgotten whom you are speaking to," he said softly, a mocking undertone of sadness ringing in his statement.  
  
Hermione was then the victim of another realization. The man was trying to intimidate her! The nerve, she silently miffed in fury. How dare he try to intimidate her with his silky whispered warnings and close proximity? What gave him the right to try and scare her, she asked herself, her annoyance turning into a simmering rage.  
  
Nothing. He had NO right, she told herself.  
  
"I'm afraid I must disagree with you, sir," she muttered menacingly, not even bothering to turn around in an attempt to look at him.  
  
She'd only see air, anyway.  
  
"I know exactly who you are," she continued, balling her hands into shaking fists of fury at her side. "You are an arrogant, insufferable man who only takes enjoyment in other people's misery. You are condescending, childish, and too bloody brilliant! And I hate you, you overgrown bat! I'm sure if you'd manage to keep that wicked tongue of yours in check, you'd be a decent person, but no! You always have to ruin every occasion by speaking!"  
  
Severus bit his lip to stifle his chuckles. Four insults, followed by a compliment, next was another compliment enfolded in an insult, and then it was all wrapped up nicely with another insult just for good measure.  
  
Wicked tongue, indeed, he thought wryly with an arch lift of his brow.  
  
"Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for your impudence," he retaliated.  
  
Hermione snorted. "How typical! You know I'm right, but you won't do anything about it! So you just take off house points because you can't rise up to the challenge I represent."  
  
All humor and amusement evaporated from his demeanor at her insinuation. Him, afraid of her, he thought incredulously, unconsciously placing himself by the door so she would have no escape.  
  
"Let me make myself clear, Miss Granger," he began ominously, lowering his voice a few octaves so as to help get his meaning across. "I am an unpleasant person. I'm rude, cruel, callous, and I simply don't care. That is who I am and I will not change for anyone; especially not for an annoying, Gryffindor know-it-all who has the nerve to insinuate that I should do so."  
  
"I hate you," she whispered darkly.  
  
Severus sneered. "Tell someone who cares, Miss Granger, for I, as you have noted, do not."  
  
Hermione felt a suspicious sting of tears burning her eyes. She brutally pushed them away, though. If he didn't care, then why should she?  
  
"Well then, it seems we have reached an impasse," she stated briskly, emotionlessly.  
  
"Indeed," he countered coldly.  
  
"Then perhaps, due to these irreconcilable differences, we should each continue our research separately, with minimal contact with the other," she suggested around a heavy lump in her throat.  
  
"Nothing would make me happier, Granger, than seeing less of you," he spat out viciously.  
  
He truly was in top form, she thought distractedly.  
  
"Well, I certainly live to please you," she said sarcastically, snapping into motion and twirling around back to the desk to gather up her belongings. "If you magically feel able to not be a total prat later, please do owl me and I shall endeavor to come back and work."  
  
She was halfway to the door when she heard him mutter, "Don't hold your breath."  
  
Hermione froze as she felt her chest tighten, knowing she was loosing their verbal battle, as well as the hold on her confusing emotions of pain and sadness.  
  
"I certainly hope that a meteor falls from the sky and lands on your head, Professor. Good day to you," she said matter-of-factly, heading towards the door for the best exit of her life.  
  
Or rather, what would have been the best exit of her life if she hadn't slammed right into his invisible chest, the momentum causing her to fall backwards quite painfully on her arse with him landing on top of her. 


	4. Blush

Disclaimer: Ummm.checking, and yes.I STILL do not own Harry Potter or any related characters in any way, shape or form.much to my dismay.  
  
(A/N): YES! 36 reviews.please, keep them coming.I want to see if I can reach at least 50! Hope this was worth the wait.er, sorry for that little cliffie, too!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 4 ~*~  
  
He had tried to catch the damn girl- that was the problem.  
  
If he had been his normal uncaring self, he'd have watched her fall back onto the hard, unyielding stone floor with pleasure, but no. He had thought to save her precious rear end the pain, and he had tried to catch her.  
  
And he had ended up loosing his own balance in the process, falling victim to gravity and landing quite nicely on top of the damn, rotten, warm, soft girl.  
  
Severus fought off a vicious blush that threatened to stain his cheeks, as well as the knowledge that brought on that blush.  
  
It wasn't the fact that he was lying quite inappropriately on top of a velvety, supple Hermione Granger that almost had him blushing to the tips of his ears.  
  
No, no, that would only be too simple.  
  
It was the fact that he *liked* it that brought on his blush.  
  
And, part of himself told the other, more stubborn half, 'like' was very much so the understatement.  
  
From beneath him, Hermione moaned, shifting quite pleasantly against Severus.  
  
She had been so close, she thought tiredly, to making the best exit of her life. What had happened, she asked herself, slightly disorientated. One minute she was marching certainly towards the door, and then the next, she had slammed into a solid, brick wall.  
  
A strong, firm, invisible.Snape?  
  
Snapping her eyes open, Hermione saw nothing, just as she knew she would.  
  
But she could feel him, his chest huffing against hers, the small, hot puff of his deep, shallow breaths against her face.  
  
Frowning at such a peculiar sensation of feeling but not seeing him, Hermione hesitantly reached out her hands and was met with Snape's harsh, obstinate nose.  
  
How odd, she thought, biting her lip in curiosity. She saw nothing, and yet he was there, lying very still on top of her. She could hear him, and feel him, but she couldn't see him.  
  
Unthinkingly, Hermione moved her hands away from his nose and cupped his cheeks, close to awe.  
  
"Remarkable," she whispered, her voice peculiarly soft, and filled with wonder.  
  
Neither of them was exactly sure to what she was referring to.  
  
And all the while, Severus laid there completely motionless as the girl caressed his face in an innocent manner of marvel.  
  
His eyes bored into hers, and she stared back at him unflinchingly, as though she could see his uncharacteristically naked stare.  
  
They laid there together for a moment suspended in time, neither of them moving for fear of breaking the subtle spell that had woven itself around them.  
  
"Your eyes have a ring of gold around them," he muttered in impulsive astonishment, his cheeks heating up from the blush he had valiantly attempted to fend off.  
  
Hermione felt her own cheeks heat up when she felt his chest rumble pleasantly against hers, and she forced herself to focus on the odd compliment instead. Well, she told herself firmly so as to rid herself of the giddy lightness she had been flooded with, it wasn't really a compliment. More of a statement of fact.  
  
"You-" she cut off whatever she had been planning on saying and replaced it with her shock-filled, "You're blushing!"  
  
Severus felt his features turn into a scowl, the moment shattered. "I do not blush, you foolish girl!"  
  
"Yes, you do," she insisted stubbornly.  
  
"And how, pray tell, do you know that?" he sneered down at her.  
  
Hermione's golden-rimmed eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. "Because I can *see* it, you twit!"  
  
Severus froze, his mouth hanging slightly open from a hastily cut-off insult. "No, you can't," he countered obstinately, "I'm invisible, remember?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes towards the Heavens and prayed for patience. "Yes, you are invisible," she said slowly, as if she was speaking to a small child, "But I can see your blush."  
  
"No, you must be imagining things for I assure you, I am not blushing," he insisted condescendingly.  
  
"But. I. Can. See. It!" she punctuated each word with a poke to his invisible chest as her annoyance grew.  
  
"Will you cease your prodding, woman," he growled, swatting her hand away and gripping it firmly when she attempt to swat him again.  
  
"Let go of my hand," Hermione ordered.  
  
Severus sneered down at her. "No," he said simply, so as to demonstrate just who exactly had the power in their situation.  
  
"I said: let go of my hand," she repeated, forcing herself to count up to ten to relieve her anger, and then twenty when ten was not sufficient.  
  
"Listen carefully, Miss Granger," Severus purred dangerously as he leaned into her to whisper, "I will only relinquish my hold on your hand once I can be assured that you will not attempt to abuse me with it."  
  
"Abuse you! Abuse YOU!" Hermione shrieked, wriggly under him as her indignation bubbled over.  
  
Severus hissed between his teeth, his eyes going almost comically wide. The girl was squirming beneath him, mumbling some incoherencies about his person, but Severus had ceased to listen or notice anything other than her movements.  
  
Merlin, if she would move just a little to the left.  
  
As if sensing his thoughts, Hermione shifted to the left while she spat something out about overgrown bats, or some such nonsense.  
  
Severus gasped again, his heart racing almost painfully in his chest.  
  
He looked down in astonishment at the girl who was quite unknowingly melting his body.  
  
She was furious, he could tell that much. Her hair was in a state of wild abandon, her cheeks flushed red, and she bit her lower lip in frustration when he refused to even acknowledge her.  
  
But it was her eyes that drew his complete, undivided detention.  
  
He had always thought them to be a plain, simple brown and he had been slightly dissuaded earlier of that opinion when he had noticed the enchanting golden ring around them. But with anger lighting up her features, a spark seemed to dwell in her eyes.  
  
They weren't plain, boring brown at all, he saw.  
  
Flecks of gold and amber sparkled in irritation, and the longer he looked into her entrancing, fiery gaze, the harder it was for him to pull away.  
  
Faintly, he noticed Hermione had ceased her struggles and was staring up at him oddly.  
  
"Sir, um, are you alright, Professor?" she asked, worry slightly creasing her brow.  
  
Clearing his throat, Severus opened his mouth to reply, but froze. Horror filled him as he stared, open-mouthed, at her lips, swollen from her biting them.  
  
He wanted to kiss her, he realized.  
  
In all of his seventeen years of teaching, he had not once yearned for the touch of one of his student's lips. He had not even entertained such foolish, hormonal notions.  
  
But then and there, at that moment, he did yearn for it. Pined for it, even.  
  
And the damn girl had accomplished this all without even trying.  
  
Gods, what has the world come to, Severus thought, even as he continued to stare at her lips, completely entranced.  
  
From beneath him, Hermione was starting to panic. He was so silent, so still, she was almost beginning to think she had harmed him in her little fit.  
  
She instantly trashed that worry, though. After all, he felt as solid as a brick wall and was probably just as indestructible as one, too.  
  
Then what was the problem?  
  
"Err, sir, are you quite alright?" she hesitantly asked, afraid of his response, or his lack thereof.  
  
Snape remained silent.  
  
But she could feel his eyes on her, oddly enough. He was staring at her so intensely that she didn't have to see his gaze to know it was fixated on her.  
  
Was there something in her teeth, she began to ponder.  
  
She attempted to slowly pull away and escape, but the moment she started to move away she felt his hands move to her shoulders, gripping almost painfully so as to keep her from moving.  
  
Or was it to keep her from leaving?  
  
Or better yet, if it was the latter, would she want to stay?  
  
Hermione really had no clue.  
  
And as she pondered the answer to the difficult question, Hermione quite abruptly felt the same tension that clutched at Snape strangle her.  
  
Now that she thought of it, he did fit quite nicely there on top of her, not crushing her with his weight so much as blanketing her in his warmth. He smelled quite nice as well, which was very surprising given the state of his hair. Sandalwood musk, mixed with various herbs and something that was distinctly him.  
  
And the hands that were currently holding her shoulders captive were surprisingly comforting in their calloused roughness. His hold was strong and firm, and yet amazingly soft and gentle at once.  
  
Hermione envisioned his fathomless black eyes, sparkling with something wonderful. A promise, of sorts, of what he was capable of giving her.  
  
Suddenly, she thought of his lips, often thinned into a tight line of irritation, invitingly warm and soft against her own.  
  
She felt her cheeks heat up and knew instantly that the blush that colored her face was worthy of a Weasley.  
  
Severus, seeing the blush, couldn't resist but to tease, "Now who's blushing?" he tauntingly smirked.  
  
"You prat," Hermione claimed without any real heat.  
  
"I do make an effort, Miss Granger, to live up to the wonderful expectations the students have set up for me," he commented dryly.  
  
Hermione smiled softly. "How kind of you, Professor," she remarked.  
  
"Yes, well," Severus began, clearing his throat and rather belatedly lifted himself off of her.  
  
Hermione made to prop herself up, as well, when she felt those rough, gentle hands lift her to her feet, lingering for a moment longer than what was truly necessary.  
  
"It has been an eventful day, Miss Granger, perhaps we ought to call it a night?" he suggested.  
  
Hermione nodded absentmindedly, her mind still on his graceful hands. They were the hands of an artist, really. Strong and knowing, yet careful and soft.  
  
"Until tomorrow evening, then?" he prompted.  
  
"Yes, yes, tomorrow evening," she parroted, dazedly gathering her fallen things and making her intended exit.  
  
Hermione and Severus were both too wrapped up in new, disturbing thoughts and emotions that they completely forgot that they had nearly killed each other as well as terminated their sessions a mere twenty minutes earlier. 


	5. In the Midst of a War

Disclaimer: Ummm.checking, and yes.I STILL do not own Harry Potter or any related characters in any way, shape or form.much to my dismay.  
  
(A/N): I originally intended for this to be a light and funny fic, but I have received a few reviews pointing out the out of character-ness of our leading roles, and I think the reason for this is because everyone knows that a light and easy relationship with Severus and Hermione is impossible (especially in the seventh year with Voldie running around). I feel that I cannot continue writing this fic in a happy-go-lucky manner without it being terribly clichéd or impossible.so as of now, I am going to factor in some other factors (answering your questions about the potion, and their lives outside of their sessions, as well as Voldemort). I hope that you will all continue reading this, and rest assured, I'm not going to make this story a soap opera.there will STILL be funniness, as well as seriousness. Please review and tell me what you think!!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 5 ~*~  
  
It really was quite odd, Hermione reflected pensively the next morning in her NEWT level potions class, having such an awfully cheery potions instructor.  
  
Professor Maul, who obviously had some sort of authority over potions, but seemed to have forgotten most of the basics, had overcome her lack of practical knowledge by deciding to teach the advance class fun, yet ultimately useless, potions.  
  
This was why Hermione was beginning to miss the snarky git who usually commanded the class, even more so that particular morning since Professor Maul had decided to teach them a recipe for bubble bath. It was a nice recipe, sure, but to Hermione it was completely useless.  
  
But as her mind slightly drifted over to the previous night's events, mainly to her warm professor lying quite comfortably on top of her, she quickly decided that she was much safer in the company of Professor Maul, bubble bath or no.  
  
After all, at least she wasn't attracted to *her*.  
  
But she was attracted to him, she had been forced to admit the other night as she lay sleeplessly on her soft, cold and lonely bed.  
  
Why, she had no clue. He had said so himself; he was an unpleasant person. rude, cruel, callous, and he simply didn't care that he was. And she couldn't change him, he had told her.  
  
But the funny thing was, she really didn't want to. She rather liked him the way he was, greasy hair and all.  
  
It was irrational, the attraction she felt for him, and more than a tad scary. After all, she had no delusions about him. He had murdered, she knew, and was still an active Death Eater.  
  
But he was a spy for the Order, and that certainly counted for something.  
  
He was quite brave, she conceded, in order to go to Voldemort and feed him veiled lies. He was right brilliant, too, not only because he had reached Master status in the tough field of potions, but also to have duped Voldemort, a master at Legilimecy, for as long as he has.  
  
What it really came down to, though, was that he was a genuinely decent man and practically everything she had been looking for. He could hold his own against her in a stimulating intellectual debate. He was brave; though he was most likely loathe to admit it seeing how being brave was generally a Gryffindor trait. He had a dry wit, often cutting and mean, but when he allowed his defenses to fall, Hermione thought he was actually quite funny.  
  
Almost childlike giggles broke her train of thought, and Hermione turned with a sigh over to Harry and Ron, giving in to a smile when they met her gaze quite innocently.  
  
"And just what are you boys doing?" she asked in her most prim tones.  
  
Harry's eyes widened in a picture of innocence as he said, "Why absolutely nothing, Hermione. We are just occupying our curious minds with this interesting potion here."  
  
"And we most certainly are not planning to drop a Gred and Feorge firework in Malfoy's potion," Ron picked up, smiling devilishly.  
  
"You know you really shouldn't do that guys," Hermione dutifully said, always the voice of reason. "Snape will kill you if he finds out."  
  
"That's IF, Hermione," Ron grinned.  
  
She smiled again at that. They really knew how to make her smile, even through the direst of situations. Like their last year, which had been especially horrid.  
  
Harry had been a mere shell of his former self, Ron had been all puppy-eyes at her, and Voldemort was killing even more ferociously since it was known he was back. There had been an attack on Hogsmeade that had almost claimed her life when a man with a silver hand had tried to take her captive.  
  
Oddly enough, her near capture had been Harry's saving grace. After weeks of numb nothingness from him, Harry had fire fill his veins. Hermione would never forget the vengeful flames that had literally flicked from his robes as he fought Wormtail and saved her arse.  
  
But she was forever grateful for those flames, for they seemed to have slowly melted the ice around his heart. He had opened up to her and Ron the night after the attack. He had told them about the prophecy, about Sirius, and he had asked for their help.  
  
"After all," he had said with a weary grin, "Someone has to save my arse while I'm off saving the world. Might as well be my brother and my sister."  
  
She had cried tears of relief, for she truly did love Harry as the brother she never had.  
  
But it was far from over, she knew, for Voldemort was as active as ever and with him loose, no one safe.  
  
Again, her thoughts were broken by her two best friends. "Hey Hermie, do us a favor and distract Professor Maul for us?" Ron asked hopefully.  
  
Hermione shook her head, saying, "Finish your potion first and then maybe I will."  
  
"Yes, mum," Ron muttered sarcastically.  
  
Harry just smiled softly at her though, silently thanking her for both making sure they'd complete the potion, and for the promise to aid them with their prank.  
  
She returned his sweet smile with one of her own, laughing softly at her boys while obligingly adding in a twig of cinnamon to her simmering cauldron.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at the vibrant pink color her potion then turned, indicating she had completed the process correctly.  
  
Unbeknownst to her, the very man who had previously occupied her confusing thoughts stood invisibly in an out of the way corner, rolling his eyes in his own annoyance.  
  
The bloody Professor Maul woman knew absolutely nothing about potions as far as he was concerned. Bubble bath, he thought scathingly. She was teaching a NEWTS level class for Merlin's sake!  
  
Resisting the urge to storm to the front of the room and reduce the insanely cheerful teacher into distressed tears, Severus forced himself to focus on the progress of his students and was only enraged further upon noticing only one student had completed so far.  
  
And the fact that the one student was Hermione Granger did nothing for his irritable state. If anything, it only increased his ire.  
  
Bloody know-it-all, he thought with more than his usual heat.  
  
He had paced his private quarters at length after their session, berating himself for his foolish childishness.  
  
The chit had made him blush, by Merlin, and without even trying!  
  
But Severus, being a highly logical being, had forced himself to analyze the why. Why had he been reduced to blushing by a completely innocent tumble that had forced her to break his fall?  
  
And he had found his answer after much warring with himself. It was because he had remained there after the fall, taking in with a silent, guilty pleasure the way her chest slightly brushed his with each breath she took. He had simply laid there on top of the girl, staring puzzling at her as if he had never seen her before.  
  
This was completely ridiculous seeing as how he had taught her for almost a complete seven years.  
  
But he had not noticed her, truly. She had always been that bushy haired know-it-all in the front row that drove him nutters with her never-ending questions; simple, plain and annoying. But the other night, he had truly seen her. Not the image he had retained of her child self, but the picture of loveliness she had turned into.  
  
She wasn't a diamond of the first waters, he knew. But there was something about the way she smiled, a little dimple forming on her left cheek. There was something about her eyes, which were not so plain when they were alight with a pretty flame sparked by her anger, or eagerness.  
  
Her hair was still hopeless, and yet he found himself recalling exactly how it had smelt when he had been in such close proximity with her. The sweet, vanilla sugar had wafted through his sensitive nose even long after she had gone.  
  
She was plain, and yet beautiful in her simplicity.  
  
And he hated himself for thinking so, and he hated her even more for making him have such thoughts.  
  
One thing was for sure though, he swore to himself. It would come to an end. He'd accept her aid in the research of the corrective potion still, but only so he could fix his invisible state.  
  
There was no other reason, he told himself. None.  
  
Severus jumped slightly in surprise when a loud boom sounded in the room, and he insistently turned his head to where Neville Longbottom sat.  
  
But the boy simply sat there, stirring his correct potion while looking around for the source of the bang himself. As much as Severus hated to admit, the day Neville Longbottom had noticed the similarities between Herbology and Potions had been the day he had ceased melting his cauldrons and been accepted into Severus's exclusive advanced class.  
  
A silent snickering caught his ears, and Severus narrowed his eyes in a potent glare at Potter and Weasley whose shoulders were shaking in stifled snickers.  
  
He then turned his gaze to a sputtering Draco Malfoy, drenched in vibrant pink from his exploded potion.  
  
Severus felt his own lips twitch when the boy's cheeks flamed a pink to match the potion.  
  
But Malfoy was obviously furious and decided to take his anger and embarrassment out on his favorite punching bag.  
  
"Granger," he snarled, his voice low and dark in humiliating fury, "You did this."  
  
Hermione, much to her credit, simply turned to fix him with a curious gaze. "You think so?" she merely asked.  
  
Malfoy's body practically shook in his rage and indignation. "I know you did, Mudblood," he hissed, the silent chuckles dying around him as the true extent of his anger slowly began to be realized.  
  
Severus frowned, instinctively knowing that something dreadful was about to happen. And Professor Maul only stood by scandalously, unable to overcome her shock in order to stop the scene that was about to unfold.  
  
"Well, that just shows what you know, then," she said lightly.  
  
In the quickest of flashes, Malfoy jumped out of his chair, which fell back from the force of his spring, wand in hand and throwing a vicious hex towards Hermione.  
  
She had been holding her wand hidden in her pocket the whole time though; obviously knowing he would try something, she had evaded the hex easily while countering with one of her own.  
  
Malfoy had not expected her to be prepared, and he had been taken by surprise by her stunning charm, whose aim proved true.  
  
He fell to the floor in a motionless state, eyes darting back and forward nervously.  
  
Hermione held her head high as she gracefully made her way to his prone body, stopping right by his head, looking down at him indifferently.  
  
And even though she appeared soothed and calmed, it was obvious to everyone she was enraged beyond belief when she spoke her soft, furious words.  
  
"I hope your intention had been to be bested by a Mudblood, otherwise you'd look like quite the fool right now, wouldn't you? I wonder what Voldemort will say when he finds out that his junior Death Eater can't even hold his own against Harry Potter's Mudblood friend; I imagine he'll be quite disappointed with you when he finds out." Her eyes glinted coldly as she taunted, "I only wish I can be there for the punishment."  
  
And she simply left, leaving the whole dungeon staring at her back, mouths open in shock, amazement, as well as a bit of fear.  
  
Severus, though, felt only anger, knowing that the foolish girl had just incurred the wrath of the Malfoy family, who just so happened to hold the most favor in Voldemort's inner circle. He stood there, hidden in the shadows in barely suppressed rage at the girl's stupidity.  
  
How could she be so dense? It simply was not like her.  
  
Of course she had already been pretty high up on Voldemort's hit list simply by being a Muggleborn and Harry Potter's best friend, but after her little scene today in which she *openly* accused a Malfoy of being linked to the Death Eaters.  
  
She'd be top on the Death Eater's list, right under Harry Potter.  
  
Honestly, how could she forget she was in the midst of a war? 


	6. War Within These Walls

Disclaimer: Ummm...checking, and yes...I STILL do not own Harry Potter or any related characters in any way, shape or form...much to my dismay...  
  
(A/N): I feel absolutely horrible for my lack of updates...I'm sooo sorry! I wrote and rewrote this chapter no less than three times, and I hope it meets your expectations...I've also decided to stop planning which genre the story will turn out to be...I'm just going to write and let the story speak for itself...For those of you who are complaining of out of characterness, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to change the way I prefer to write just to suit your whims. After all, this is a FAN fiction- some degree of out of characterness is to be expected... Thank you all for waiting...please review with any advice or constructive criticism...  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 6 ~*~  
  
She couldn't believe him, the little rat.  
  
No, no, she told herself, he was a ferret. A bloody, albino ferret that she just yearned to kick down the hall.  
  
How dare he, she simmered. How dare he accuse her and insult her in the middle of class? The nerve of that audacious little prick!  
  
It was because she had refused him, Hermione knew, that night he had tried to proposition her.  
  
What was it he had said? 'No one says no to a Malfoy'- yes, that's what he had said after her angry fist had connected with his pale, pinched face.  
  
It wasn't the punch that had provoked his ire, she once again knew. It was her comment after that had truly ignited the blaze of hate in his eyes.  
  
"Well, someone just did," she had countered in a dangerously soft voice that seemed to echo down the solemnly quiet hall.  
  
So was his little temper tantrum his form of revenge, she pondered.  
  
"Bloody stupid Malfoy," she muttered under her breath for the umpteenth time, her quick, precise steps coming to a halt in front of a bookcase while she angrily scanned the titles.  
  
Predictably she had made her way straight down to the library following her rather dramatic exit.  
  
After all, the library was filled to the brim with books that held the answers to most of the world's mysteries; maybe it would hold the answer to her conflicting questions.  
  
Of course, she was no longer referring to her issues with Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret, but rather a different, more confusing Slytherin.  
  
But the library didn't really have any books that dealt with matters of the heart.  
  
And was it even a matter of the heart, or was it just lust, a simple attraction?  
  
Honestly, she didn't even like the man. He was a horrible, downright mean person. He was cruel, callous, and biting.  
  
So how come she wished he was there with her, kissing the senses out of her with those lips that were almost always thinned into a thin line of annoyance?  
  
She was going mad, that had to be it.  
  
"I knew I'd find you here," she heard a voice mutter, more to himself than to her.  
  
She jumped in surprise, and twirled around to see nothing.  
  
She was definitely losing it, Hermione concluded while trying to tame her racing pulse and temper her rapid breathing.  
  
Severus smiled at her reaction.  
  
He had made his own exit shortly after hers, determined to find the silly chit and talk some sense into her Gryffindor head.  
  
But now, he rather liked the idea of just watching her, maybe toying with her.  
  
Only a little, he smirked, knowing that he was going to have fun with his little know-it-all.  
  
"Good God, I'm hearing voices," Hermione muttered aloud with a roll of her eyes after she had sufficiently calmed herself.  
  
Severus's smirk widened while he casually leaned against one of the towering bookcases, crossing his arms comfortably across his chest and enjoying the show.  
  
"That's just fantastic," she continued on in agitation. "I'm hearing voices and pining over over-grown bats. Bloody fantastic," she huffed.  
  
Severus's expression froze. Did she just say she was pining over over- grown bats? Wasn't that what most of the school referred to him as?  
  
Two words floated through his confused, whirling mind, not nearly expressing the shocked disbelief he felt:  
  
Bloody hell.  
  
Hermione echoed his sentiments. "Bloody hell, I'm going stark raving mad," she went on, dipping around the other side of the bookcase and continuing her rant. "No wait. Not me...the world. The world is going bonkers. Malfoy's tried to proposition me, Snape's gone invisible, I'm mooning over said invisible git, and I've openly connected a Malfoy with the Death Eaters..." the very last part came as a sudden realization.  
  
"Oh no then, it's just me," she whimpered, suddenly realizing her folly. "Bullocks, I'm going to die for that."  
  
Severus snapped out of his stupor as she recognized her huge mistake. All at once he felt his anger tinged with fear come surging back to the front of his mind, and he centered it all on her.  
  
"Have you gone absolutely daft, woman?" he thundered, standing up from the bookcase and crossing his arms forebodingly across the chest.  
  
And she was a woman, he saw as she came around from behind the bookcase with wide, shocked eyes. He had felt the swell of her hips pressed conveniently to his and there was no denying that little Hermione Granger had grown into a classic, curvy beauty seemingly over night.  
  
"Why yes, actually, how kind of you to notice," Hermione simply said, staring a little to the left of where Snape was standing.  
  
And she knew it was him, of course. She should have known the second she heard some deep, silky disembodied voice speaking to her.  
  
So, the little Slytherin devil had been standing there the whole time, eavesdropping on her little soliloquy, she thought in chagrin.  
  
"How long have you been here?" she snapped, annoyance narrowing her eyes and folding her arms defensively against her chest.  
  
She could hear the smirk in his voice as he taunted, "Long enough."  
  
Hermione's jaw clenched. "Suddenly, it feels too cramped in here. If you'll be so kind as to excuse me, Professor," she retorted in clipped, sarcastic tones.  
  
She unexpectedly bumped into his invisible, him presumably have moving to block her path.  
  
Her hypothesis was proven correct when the sarcastic man said, "No I will not be so kind, Miss Granger. Explain your actions this instant."  
  
Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. "I don't see what there is to explain, sir. You were there, were you not?"  
  
Severus felt his anger rise. "What were you thinking when you openly accuse that little twerp to being linked to the Death Eaters?" he thundered.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously I wasn't thinking, and now there's no turning back so there's no use fretting about it. Good day to you, sir."  
  
She moved to make her exit once more, but again, he blocked her path.  
  
"That's it? Do you not know that you are now in serious danger?" he asked, incredulous at her seeming ease.  
  
"Of course I am aware of that, I'm not completely dumb," she ground out.  
  
Severus sneered at her, "Well you certainly have fooled me, Miss Granger."  
  
That was it. The man truly knew how to dance on her last nerve. He obviously was not that brilliant when he was faced with an angry woman instead of an angry potion.  
  
"Look, Professor. I acted rashly today, I admit, but I wouldn't take back my words even if I could, so let's drop it, shall we?" she bit out.  
  
"No, Miss Granger, we will not drop it. Explain yourself," he snapped.  
  
Hermione sighed and said, suddenly quite serious, "Someone has to stand up to the students who make their loyalties abundantly clear since Albus Dumbledore will not."  
  
Severus blinked, taken aback as though she had slapped him. "How do you mean?" he managed to sputter out.  
  
If she noticed his shock, then she ignored it well.  
  
"Don't you understand?" she didn't wait for an answer from him before he continued, "No, of course you don't. You're a pureblood," she sneered.  
  
"What are you on about, woman?" he growled, now even more confused.  
  
And Severus hated being confused.  
  
"Ever since my second year, Malfoy and his gang have repeatedly insulted me, put me down, and attempted to hurt me. They walk the halls unpunished for their blatant racial prejudice. I have endured the brunt of their wrath because I'm smart, smarter than them even. Do you understand now, Professor? I have to stand up against them because no one else will. Dumbledore can't risk the open war that would result of punishing them, I understand that. He also wants to shield and protect us from the affects of war, but he doesn't realize that we've been feeling those effects since second year," she said in a furious speech full of her annoyance and pain from over the years.  
  
Dear Gods, he had never even seen it that way. Severus stood, mouth agape, staring at the remarkable, eloquent young woman before him.  
  
And in that very moment, Severus Snape saw Hermione Granger in an entirely new light.  
  
He had been unpopular as a kid, an outcast, and a loner. But that had all been by choice, really. He had rarely ever concerned himself with popularity contests, or superficial gatherings. He'd only ever wanted knowledge, power.  
  
And there stood Hermione Granger who wanted nothing more than to be accepted in the way he had taken for granted as a child. Never, in all his years, had he ever pondered the effects of the word 'Mudblood'.  
  
Sure, he knew it was demeaning and hurtful, but why did he care? The word didn't apply to him.  
  
And in his youth, he had callously thrown the insult about, never noticing the type of psychological damage he had done.  
  
Did he regret it now that he did, though?  
  
The fact that he wasn't sure was slightly scary to him.  
  
"Do you see now, Professor?" she continued, unaware of his mental byplay. "We are at war within Hogwarts walls, no matter how much Albus Dumbledore wishes for it to be otherwise."  
  
"That can be determined as disrespectful, Miss Granger," he noted, still distracted with his inner thoughts.  
  
"Maybe so, sir, but it's the truth," she countered grimly.  
  
Severus turned his gaze to Hermione and studied her shamelessly. "You are aware of the fact that you have seriously jeopardized your well-being?" he mildly inquired.  
  
Hermione smiled softly. "No matter what I do, Professor, I will always be placed in harm's way."  
  
Severus felt a sneer curl his lips. "Because you're practically Harry Potter's bloody sister," he bit out.  
  
Hermione surprised him by brightening her smile and saying calmly, "Partly so, yes. I'll always be in danger because I'm 'Harry Potter's bloody sister' who is also the top of her class and is a Mudblood. I'd be in danger even if Harry wasn't my friend."  
  
Severus tilted his head and studied her as if she were some rare, unprecedented potion. "And this doesn't bother you?"  
  
"I don't let it bother me; I just deal with it. Good day to you, Professor Snape," she bid, exiting before he could stop her.  
  
Not that he wanted to, he told himself.  
  
He didn't fancy her company at all.  
  
Not one bit...  
  
He didn't even like the impertinent chit.  
  
Not at all...  
  
Severus muttered a dangerous curse under his breath, pivoting on his foot and making his way to the sanctuary of his private rooms.  
  
He couldn't even convince himself of that anymore.  
  
(A/N): Next chapter...details about the potion and Severus comes up with a plan... 


	7. Marriage Proposals

Disclaimer: Ummm...checking, and yes...I STILL do not own Harry Potter or any related characters in any way, shape or form...much to my dismay...  
  
(A/N): Here it is chapter 7!!! And up pretty quick, too...I hope this slightly makes up for the previous long delay...I'll update again ASAP! Please, review!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 7 ~*~  
  
For the first time in over twenty-five years, Severus Snape had melted a cauldron.  
  
He stared blankly at the melted pile of metal, watching bemusedly as its contents hissed and bubbled forward to spill out on to the floor.  
  
He had added in dragon's breath instead of frog's breath. A simple error, he told himself, that anyone was capable of committing.  
  
Anyone but a well-seasoned Potions Master, he thought snidely in irritation.  
  
Resignedly he procured his wand and banished the useless potion and cauldron away.  
  
A rush of air passed through his lips and Severus pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. He could already feel the tension headache coming on, building between his eyes and stretching annoyingly down to his neck.  
  
He had been attempting to brew the potion that would cause the headache to cease before it even appeared. It was a simple tonic that any of the first years could throw together, and he had messed it all up like a royal nitwit.  
  
And now the reason for his headache would be there at any minute.  
  
That very thought alone was enough to increase the slight pounding behind his closed eyes.  
  
Hermione Granger, the bane of his teaching existence. She was smart, clever, and witty.  
  
And, as he had recently figured out, she possessed a very nice bum. Not overly large or tight, just a perfect handful.  
  
Not that he'd know if her arse was a handful from experience, but after much deliberation and a few vivid mental pictures, Severus had concluded that her arse would fit quite nicely into his hands.  
  
Mentally berating himself, Severus firmly snubbed that train of thought.  
  
It was ridiculous, he told himself. He was being ridiculous.  
  
Perhaps Miss Granger wasn't the only one who was going mad.  
  
Resolving to focus away from Hermione Granger's arse and on to more important matters, Severus pulled out his detailed notes on the Mister Cellophane potion.  
  
Hermione had suggested the name early on in their research, an obvious reference to some Muggle aspect he was not yet versed on. But it was quite catchy so he had allowed his new invisibility potion to be dubbed as such.  
  
Scanning over his cramped, neat writing, Severus frowned in thought.  
  
They hadn't made too much progress, unless one counted the blushing incident, but he still maintained that it was her imagination.  
  
Snapes did not blush, or so he had been told by his father once.  
  
As Hermione had noted on their first meeting, they had narrowed the problem down to the three base ingredients, and from there had even furthered to limit the choices down to the reaction of phoenix ash due to the addition of dragon's breath.  
  
They had studied and re-brewed the Mister Cellophane potion and had found that when they had added in the dragon's breath at the final stage, the phoenix ash seemed to have some sort of chemical reaction to it and had dissolved and had fizzled away. Without the phoenix ash properly phased into the potion, it had reverted back to its main use of invisibility.  
  
So their dilemma was this: how could they add the dragon's breath without losing the molecular structure of the phoenix ash.  
  
The answer was simple, and yet infinitely complicated.  
  
The obvious solution was to find some sort of balancing ingredient that would stabilize the two. But the problem was finding the correct ingredient that would not corrupt the remaining essential ingredients.  
  
Muttering under his breath, Severus began to add to the list of potential stabilizing ingredients.  
  
Mugsworth was worth a shot, along with nightshade, and snapdragon petals.  
  
But they really wouldn't know which ingredient for sure until they checked his ability to resist Imperio, which he had forestalled for as long as he could, but it appeared that they wouldn't be able to clear the mental hurdle in their research until they had those particular results.  
  
The swinging open of his office door faintly registered in his occupied mind.  
  
"Professor Snape," Hermione said in way of greeting, her tone carefully neutral.  
  
Severus glanced up from his notes and likewise greeted her.  
  
There was an odd moment of silence between the two, painfully uncomfortable.  
  
Hermione, on her part, was rather embarrassed. She had revealed much about herself earlier that afternoon in the library, not enough to scare her out of that night's session, but enough to leave her feeling somewhat vulnerable under his invisible stare.  
  
Absentmindedly she bit her lip, watching curiously as she saw the piece of parchment her professor had been pursuing float weightlessly back to his desk, where she assumed he had decided to place it.  
  
"I fear that there is no way around testing my ability to resist the Imperius tonight, Miss Granger," Severus forthrightly said.  
  
And so they both started their meeting on some mutual silent agreement to ignore what had happened between the two earlier that day.  
  
"How are we going to test that, sir?" Hermione asked, her curiosity overcoming her slight shyness.  
  
"I have not thought of that yet, Miss Granger. I had hoped it would not be necessary, but now I fear we have no other choice," Severus claimed.  
  
"Do you suppose we could ask Professor Moody? He is our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year," she suggested.  
  
Professor Alastor Moody, the real authentic one and not some polyjuiced twin, had come back as their Defense teacher for Harry, Ron, and Hermione's last year and was surprisingly very much like the imposter Moody.  
  
"That is probably the easiest way, beside the fact that he is unaware of my current state," Severus remarked.  
  
Hermione shook her head, disagreeing with him. "Oh, I can go and retrieve him right now, Professor, and silently brief him on the way."  
  
Severus nodded his approval.  
  
Several moments of awkward silence passed before he recalled she couldn't see the dismissing gesture and he said, "Yes, Miss Granger, you can do that."  
  
And she left, pivoting on her back foot and twirling quite gracefully around on her heel to retrieve the gruff, retired Auror.  
  
While Severus was quite strong minded and willed, he had never been quite able to resist the Imperius curse, which was why the idea of a resistance potion had appealed to him. The more control he had in possibly disastrous situations the better.  
  
It did not take Hermione long at all to carry through her mission.  
  
The young woman had been gone no longer than ten minutes before she reappeared with a rather amused looking Alastor Moody.  
  
"Severus, I see we have a problem," he said gruffly, the small twitch of his lips making one of his facial scars jump.  
  
Severus glared in annoyance, not liking someone finding humor at his expense. "Alastor, do what you came here to do and leave," he ordered irately.  
  
Alastor's magical eye swiveled in his socket and pinned Severus down to the spot. "We had a quick chat with Dumbledore through the floo before we came down here, Snape, and he gave us permission to test out your potion here."  
  
"Then stop your dawdling, man, and cast the curse," he growled.  
  
With a huff, Alastor directed his wand, unerringly accurate, and hit Severus with one of the most unforgivable curses.  
  
Immediately, Severus was flooded with a light-headed, worriless elation that he found to be a little too familiar.  
  
He heard Alastor's voice whisper suggestive commands in the back of his mind, but once he processed just what the command was, he clamped down.  
  
Severus fought valiantly and almost succeeded in breaking the curse. He lasted a full five minutes longer than usual, which was a vast improvement from before. But, perhaps inevitably, he felt his resolve weaken and heard Alastor forcefully yell into his mind.  
  
"PROPOSE TO MISS GRANGER!!!"  
  
"Absolutely not," he wanted to shout back, but instead he found himself taking a step closer to the curiously watching student.  
  
Suddenly, he found himself down on one knee and saying in a reverent voice barely above a silky whisper, "Hermione, dearest, will you marry me?"  
  
Alastor Moody, a true Slytherin, broke the curse with his gruff, barking laughter, while Hermione Granger looked peculiarly flushed.  
  
Severus glared at the former, knowing full well that Alastor would practically see the waves of anger rolling of him, and then he stared inquiringly at the latter.  
  
Hermione herself was still valiantly fending off the blush that already stained her checks. What was it she had felt at his words, his endearment? Excitement? Lust? Perhaps longing...  
  
Whatever the little trill that had swept through her body was, it was enough to leave her blushing and confused.  
  
And Severus still knelt before her, staring up into her beautiful eyes and watching many odd emotions cross her gaze.  
  
"Alastor, you have had your fun and your assistance is no longer needed," he began, slightly polite before he continued, thundering, "Leave!"  
  
Alastor only chuckled, his unique sense of humor glinting in his eyes. "Perhaps I'll report back to Dumbledore, let him know how we progressed. Miss Granger, Snape," he nodded curtly in farewell, thunking out of the dungeons.  
  
"I will never live this down," Severus muttered, embarrassment tinting his dry tone.  
  
Hermione smiled slightly, claiming, "No worries, Professor. I think we've progressed quite well tonight, but if we continue, anything we come up with would be rather anticlimactic to the previous events, don't you think?"  
  
"Quite," he agreed wryly. "We shall adjourn until the day after next."  
  
"Good evening, Professor Snape, sir," Hermione bid, gathering her things and barely suppressing a rather mischievous smile before continuing, "And my answer is yes."  
  
Severus Snape stared after the retreating backside of Hermione Granger before he belatedly realized he was still on one knee, and rose swiftly while dusting his robes.  
  
"Three points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger," he awarded with a crooked half smile.  
  
After all, it was not everyday that someone made that great of an exit. 


	8. Of Indigestion and Staring

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous seven chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): Here's another chapter, yay! I thought it might be interesting to see one of their sessions through only Severus's perspective, so I hope you all enjoy...I'll update again ASAP!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 8 ~*~  
  
Throughout the span of his thirty-seven years, there had been many colorful adjectives used to describe Severus.  
  
Greasy, git, nasty, overgrown bat, and downright wicked being amongst the top few used to paint his picture.  
  
But nowhere in the aforementioned list have the words 'clueless' and 'romantic' ever appeared.  
  
And Severus prided himself heavily upon that.  
  
When he was at the awkward age of fifteen, he had not bothered with flowers or chocolates for the members of the opposite sex. He had preferred to remain with his nose in a book and his head out of the clouds.  
  
Perhaps that was why he was now so confused. He had nothing to really compare his current feelings to.  
  
That didn't mean he had no experience at all with women; he wasn't eunuch, after all. He had had plenty of encounters (were all that he really saw them as) with females.  
  
He had had nights of passion and lust with no expectations at all in the morning. One night stands, really. Never in all of his years had he ever developed a romantic attachment with anyone.  
  
This was why the poor sod didn't recognize that that was exactly what was happening to him at the present.  
  
Four days had passed and Severus still had no clue as to what Hermione Granger meant by her parting line.  
  
"And my answer is yes."  
  
Was she being sarcastic? Simply trying to stun him into silence?  
  
If so, it had worked most splendidly.  
  
But then again, hadn't she so much as admitted that she was pining over him that day in the library? Perhaps she wasn't kidding so much as promising...  
  
Now why did that make his stomach clench, he thought bemusedly.  
  
Tiredly he rose from the small, squat and squishy black leather chair by his fireplace.  
  
It had to be indigestion, he concluded, making his way over to his potions cabinet to find the brew that would rectify that problem.  
  
He had eaten chili earlier, after all.  
  
He sighed unenthusiastically, hands automatically grabbing the correct bottle without him having to read the label.  
  
Why was the girl so confusing to him?  
  
Severus could read anyone as if they were an open book, so why couldn't he understand her? What in damnation made her so special?  
  
He'd be damned if he knew. Severus was beginning to doubt whether or not he knew anything at all anymore.  
  
First, he bungled a potion. Then he accepted Hermione annoying Granger as a lab assistant, and then he had defied all reason and went on to fall in lust with said lab assistant. Not only that, but he was driving himself almost mad with trying to come up with a way to protect her from the Malfoy wrath.  
  
And to top it all off, he had melted a cauldron.  
  
Wearily, he downed the potion and resigned to turn in for a bit.  
  
Perhaps a good, solid dreamless sleep would do him well...  
  
Even if it was in the late afternoon. ~*~  
  
"And how are you today, Severus?" he heard the matter-of-fact, friendly voice greet him almost as soon as he had closed his eyes.  
  
Severus took a deep breath and replied, "As well as can be expected, my dear. It has been another long day, one that hasn't even truly reached its end yet, I'm afraid."  
  
"Why don't you come and sit with me and tell me all about it. I've made you some hot chocolate," she tempted, patting his black leather sofa invitingly while holding out an equally black mug to him.  
  
Severus gave her a slight smile. Of course, it was his dream so he felt perfectly safe with the fact that she knew of his secret love for all things sweet.  
  
With an air of familiarity, he took the mug and the seat next to her, not even blinking when she snuggled up to him. Contentedly, he lifted his right arm to embrace her closer, and proceeded to tell her of his day. ~*~  
  
Slowly, Severus blinked open his eyes and sighed with an air of acquiescence. He had been having that same dream since that night four days ago. Their conversation and verbal by play were always different, but essentially the same thing happened.  
  
He would walk into his private chambers to see Hermione there, waiting for him in front of the fire. Each time she would ask him how his day was, and he'd simply tell her. He would talk and sip his cup of hot chocolate (made just the way he liked it, with all cream and milk chocolate) with his left hand, while his right arm snaked its way around her and held her close.  
  
Nothing erotic every happened. Nothing perverted. He just simply held her and talked with her, enjoying her comments and inputs when she did speak.  
  
Sometimes he'd kiss her on the forehead, and she'd just smile as she snuggled even closer to his body.  
  
And the oddest feeling would swell within his chest when she did that, nearly choking the air out of him.  
  
Pushing such frivolous thoughts out of his slightly clouded mind, Severus gingerly sat up in on his massive bed. Straining his neck he caught the time and nearly panicked when he realized that it was five past seven.  
  
Five minutes past seven o'clock- their designated research time.  
  
Severus Snape was late.  
  
Cursing violently he practically leapt out of the bed, feeling only marginally grateful that he had been too weary to even change out of his current garments.  
  
Not that it would make a difference. The day he had attempted to test his prototype potion he had not only found himself invisible, but the clothes he had been wearing as well.  
  
And so he had taken to wearing those very same robes, cleaning them with a simple charm and not taking them off for fear of forgetting where he'd set them down. He'd be damned if he'd walk the halls stark raving naked, even if no one would see his bits and pieces.  
  
Eyes narrowing together in annoyance, he quickly made his way silently but effortlessly through his private chambers and to the door that connected to his office.  
  
Mutely he entered and, even though her back was to him, Hermione Granger spun around in the large chair she occupied, smiled politely and greeted, "Good evening, sir."  
  
Severus grunted, forcing himself not to stare at her. It wasn't as if she would notice, and therefore, she wouldn't object to his ogling, as it were. It was merely the principle of the matter.  
  
Severus Snape was not going to stare all dopey-eyed at his crush.  
  
"Since we've already eliminated snapdragon petals and vampire's fang off of our ever increasing list, I suggest we begin to work to narrow down the suspects even further," he briskly claimed, picking up a potion's text he had been pursuing and taking his seat from behind his massive desk without so much as a by-your-leave to her.  
  
Hermione, used to his rudeness, ignored the slight and countered with an ever polite, dutiful, "Yes, Professor Snape."  
  
Her politeness only served to increase his fowl mood.  
  
Damned witch, haunting his days as well as his nights, he thought angrily.  
  
Maybe there was some sort of counter-curse or shielding charm that he could use to banish her from his thoughts, he idly wondered, completely oblivious to what he was supposed to be reading.  
  
It seemed a long stretch, but he was desperate and willing to try almost anything.  
  
Severus glanced up from his book and snuck a glance at the object of his...disdain? Lust? Both seemed wrong somehow. Even though he did not particularly like the girl, disdain seemed too harsh as a way to describe it. And he did want to do neigh unspeakable things to her in his bed, but lust seemed too impersonal of a word for what he wanted with her.  
  
He frowned as he studied her, watching in befuddlement as she chewed on her lower lip, tucked an unruly lock of hair behind an ear, and then jotted something down in her notes.  
  
What was she to him, he pondered. Certainly, not his friend, but neither was she just a student. Perhaps maybe a colleague, although he was loathed to admit even to himself that he held that much respect for her.  
  
She truly was a puzzle, as was his sudden newfound interest in her. He could possibly understand if she was some raving beauty who haunted some of his more hormonal dreams (he was, despite many opinions to the contrary, human after all), but she wasn't.  
  
Not that she was ugly. She was...pretty, he supposed some would say. She was a plain Jane who haunted his simple, comfortable dreams of late night fireside chats and familiar kisses.  
  
And for the life of him, he had no idea why.  
  
"Why, professor?"  
  
Apparently, neither did she.  
  
Severus blinked, breaking out of his musing and feeling a slight pang of guilt. "Why what, Miss Granger?" he shot back, slightly defensive. He wasn't doing anything wrong, after all.  
  
She finally looked up from her book and pinned him to his seat with a forthright look. "Why are you staring at me?"  
  
Severus felt embarrassment rise up, but he tempered the feeling with anger at the fact that she was accusing him (and it did not matter if he was guilty). "Whatever would give you the idea that I would waste my time staring at you?" he sneered.  
  
Hermione tilted her head to the side curiously and seemed to ponder the question. "I don't know why anyone would waste their time looking at me, but I can positively feel your eyes weighing me down. Have I got something in my teeth?" she queried, running her tongue along the front of her teeth so as to make sure they were clean.  
  
The small, rosy tip of her tongue slightly darting between her lips did odd things to his breathing, not to mention his nether regions.  
  
"No Miss Granger, I was merely lost in thought," he claimed, dismissing her and turning resolutely back to his book.  
  
He'd read the damned thing even if he had to glue his eyes to the pages in order to keep them off of the insufferable woman. 


	9. Confusion and Heartache

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous seven chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): And now, a chapter through Hermione's point of view...hope you all enjoy! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 9 ~*~  
  
Hermione was walking on tiptoes and had been for some time now.  
  
Of course, she wasn't literally walking around on her tiptoes like some confused ballerina, but she was beginning to become increasingly worried.  
  
After all, it had been almost a full week since the unforgettable (and indeed, unforgivable) scene during her potions class, and there had yet been no retaliation. And there would be one, she knew. It was only a matter of time.  
  
Looking over her shoulder in what she assured herself was not paranoia but caution, Hermione silently trudged down the steps that would take her to the potions class, and invariably, Severus Snape's private office.  
  
But that very same path took her a little too close to the serpent's den.  
  
She knew from the glances she had taken at the Marauder's Map that the Slytherin Common Room was approximately two or three corridors away from her current location, and she feared running into a gaggle of said students, outnumbered.  
  
With a silent intake of breath, Hermione squared her shoulders and marched a little more deliberately down the hall.  
  
She was a Gryffindor, after all.  
  
As it happened, she reached the potions room without incident.  
  
Shaking off the slight fear of the unknown, Hermione berated herself at her silliness. It was absurd. She was practically afraid of her own shadow and Professor Snape would surely lock her up in St. Mungo's if her stupidity persisted.  
  
Resting for a moment against the back of the closed door, she took a moment to compose herself. She had to shake off the slight paranoia that had gripped her as well as take a brief moment to prepare her guards, for there was no telling how indulgent her smarmy professor was going to be that evening.  
  
There meetings were comfortable, at best, and dreadful when he was at his worst. Professor Snape, for some reason unbeknownst to her, had taken to behaving one of two ways during their sessions.  
  
The first, and Hermione's preferred, was most cordial. Friendly; well, as friendly as Snape could be at any rate. He'd converse with her on an intellectual level, appealing to her brains and comparing notes. He'd even relaxed his verbal barbs enough to where she could see the humor behind the prickly insults.  
  
The second, however, was terrible. He'd throw his petty insults, one right after the other. He'd berate her notes, which were quite thorough and damn near perfect, and if he couldn't find any fault with her data, he'd criticize her penmanship.  
  
"Your writing is remarkably similar to chicken scratches, Miss Granger; do you possess any relations who lay eggs and possess drumsticks?" he'd once sneered from whichever corner he had been glowering in.  
  
And that was another thing. He couldn't sit still when he was thinking. Hermione, whenever she was deep in thought, sat and stared blankly at whatever piece it was she was reading for some time, lost in her own mind.  
  
Snape, however, was somewhat restless. When pouring over a particularly troublesome text the professor would get up from behind his desk and pace, sometimes muttering.  
  
That in and of itself was not what unnerved Hermione so. It was the fact that the man was completely silent in his pacing. The first time he'd done it, he'd scared her half to death, speaking one moment from behind his desk, and then two minutes later from behind her.  
  
And the utterly vexing thing was that Hermione was positive that he did it not only out of habit, but just to startle her.  
  
The git, she thought without any heat.  
  
That bloody brilliant git.  
  
They were still at a loss as to which ingredient would balance the potion the best. It was a long, yet interesting process that had Hermione having a whole new appreciation for Potions Masters.  
  
Anyone who could spend months pondering over one simple ingredient to stabilize a near-perfect potion was someone who truly loved their field.  
  
And Professor Snape, she was beginning to see, loved his potions.  
  
She didn't have to see his expression to tell, which was great seeing as who she couldn't see him at all. Hermione could hear his (slight) enthusiasm about his brews hidden behind the layers of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
She was almost jealous that potions seemed to spark something to life in him, where she seemingly did nothing but annoy him.  
  
Giving a fanciful sigh, Hermione mentally shook herself, pushing away from the door.  
  
There was no use dawdling- he'd only take off house points if she was late.  
  
With a slight air of acceptance Hermione made her way to his office, knocking softly before entering without waiting for his reply.  
  
"You're late," she heard his disembodied voice point out from behind his desk.  
  
Funny, she was already used to hearing and not seeing him.  
  
Hermione bit her lip and looked at her wristwatch. It read 6:59.  
  
"Actually, I'm a minute early," she informed him.  
  
She could feel his eyes narrow on her. "You are four minutes late, actually," he countered, and as he said that the clock on his desk turned toward her so she could read the time.  
  
His read 7:03.  
  
According to him, she was four minutes late, but by her time, she was a minute ahead. Suspicion puckered her brow.  
  
He wouldn't have changed his clock ahead just so he could rail at her for being late, would he?  
  
The answer hit Hermione grimly in the face.  
  
Yes, he would.  
  
"You insufferable man," she muttered in awe.  
  
"Come again?" she heard him reply, slightly unsure.  
  
"You insufferable man," she repeated just as disbelievingly as the first time. "You changed your clock for an excuse to yell at me, didn't you?"  
  
He remained, perhaps wisely, silent in his bemusement.  
  
"Good," she nodded satisfactorily. "You don't deny it. Of all the petty, ridiculous things for you to do! You went through all the trouble of purposefully changing your clock!"  
  
"I resent that, Miss Granger. You know nothing of what you speak of," he declared.  
  
Hermione groaned. "Oh, I believe I know exactly what were speaking of, sir, and it is my pleasure to inform you that I will not play your game."  
  
"Game?" he blustered incredulously.  
  
"Yes, Professor Snape, game. As in the one you are trying to play with me. I have no desire to be apart of it, so game over," she smirked.  
  
"I have no idea of what you're speaking about," he said evasively.  
  
"Do not play innocent with me, sir, for I assure you it does not work with someone of your character. I am tired of dancing circles around you. This game is at an end, are we clear?" she snapped briskly.  
  
She heard a rustle of cloth against cloth and she knew he was rising to face her. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your disrespect. Are we clear, Miss Granger?" he asked mockingly.  
  
"You are the most insufferable, annoying, and without a doubt, the most dreadful human being I have ever had the misfortune of crossing, Snape!" she trilled in an almost-shout.  
  
A moment's silence reigned before he simply replied, "Thank you, Miss Granger, but flattery will get you know where."  
  
"You unbearable bat! I did not intend that to be a compliment!"  
  
"But nonetheless, that is how I chose to interpret it as," he sneered condescendingly.  
  
"Why do you do this to me?" she suddenly burst out accusingly.  
  
He seemed to be genuinely confused when he asked, "Do what, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione bit back a growl. "Why are you the only man alive that can make me feel the way I do right now?"  
  
"And how, pray tell, is it that you are feeling right now, Miss Granger?" he asked quietly.  
  
Hermione felt her anger desert her and her shoulders slumped in defeat.  
  
He was remarkably good at his little game.  
  
"You make me feel more frustrated, more at ease, more stupid, and then more intelligent than anyone else ever has," she whispered vulnerably.  
  
Amazement tinged his voice as he asked, just as vulnerable her, "I do?"  
  
"Yes," she said in exasperation. "You do, and I don't know why and it's damn near killing me inside that I can't understand it."  
  
"Maybe," he began only to stop abruptly.  
  
Hermione frowned. "Maybe what?" she queried.  
  
"I'm not sure," he said.  
  
"Well then," Hermione broke the silence, because ultimately someone had to. "What do we do now?"  
  
There was a moment's pause before she heard his slightly tentative, peace offering, "I think we can start by eliminating pixie dust from our list for I have..."  
  
And they awkwardly worked on through the night as if Hermione Granger had not just nearly admitted her growing feelings of warmth for her Potions Master. 


	10. Emotions

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): Here's chapter ten with some rising action for ya'll! Hope you like it...PLEASE review (I am not above begging, people!)  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 10 ~*~  
  
The fire crackled invitingly in front of him, promising him the warmth of a silent, unbiased friend.  
  
Severus gratefully accepted its invitation of silent companionship and gracelessly plopped into his familiar, squashy black leather chair, sprawling himself out elegantly as he nursed a glass of thick, soothing brandy.  
  
He frowned as he contemplated the flames while trying to muddle through his emotions.  
  
Emotions, he thought derisively, his lip curling up from distaste.  
  
Severus Snape was a spy, and a man who could not afford to indulge in the luxury of having emotions.  
  
But nonetheless, he sat there swirling his brandy as he pondered his growing...feelings (he nearly shivered at the word) for his student.  
  
And a Gryffindor student at that, he mentally added as though that fact added insult to injury.  
  
Hermione Granger, just how *did* he fell about her?  
  
He valued her opinions, thought she was just shy of being a true prodigy genius, he wanted to feel her soft looking, rose petal lips on *every* part of his body, and he continually had to restrain himself from throttling the lippy girl.  
  
She tap-danced on his last nerve with her annoyingly soft looking skin and her ugly gorgeous comforting eyes.  
  
The problem was that Hermione Granger invoked many emotions, from anger and hate to protectiveness and lust, in a man who could not afford to feel anything.  
  
Not to mention that the girl so much as told him only a mere two hours before that he himself did the very same to her.  
  
And the icing on top of his bitter slice of cake came just then as he realized that he was *sorry* he confused her so. After all, if he baffled her only half as much as she did him then he truly sympathized with her.  
  
Was this what it was supposed to be like, he pondered while taking a generous sip of his brandy.  
  
The liquid slipped down his throat and spread to his stomach, uncurling a feeling of warmth there.  
  
Was this what it was like to genuinely care for someone?  
  
If so, Severus decided he could live just fine without that burden, thank you very much.  
  
And, he could live just as fine without Hermione Granger.  
  
As if in response to that very thought, the orange crackling fire turned a rather ominous looking green color and Albus Dumbledore's head appeared, pinning Severus to his seat with a disturbingly calm stare.  
  
"Severus, there is an emergency that most certainly cannot wait until the morrow. Please, come to my office at once," Albus said, speaking clearly and slowly.  
  
But this was the man who was almost a surrogate father to him. Albus Dumbledore, much as Severus hated to admit it, knew Severus almost better than Severus knew himself. And he tended to believe that that connection worked both ways, so Severus was quite capable of hearing the searing anger and slight fear behind the older man's deceptively calm tone.  
  
"Certainly, Headmaster," Severus responded grimly, watching with an air of foreboding as Albus's head disappeared and the flames reverted back to their natural orange color.  
  
Only this time, even the flames seemed devoid of their comfort and warmth from mere seconds before.  
  
He rose to his feet, positive that he would not like what this 'meeting' had in store.  
  
He looked to the half-empty glass of brandy he still held in his hand questioningly before he threw back his head and downed the remainder of the liquid.  
  
He was sure he'd need it to get through the rest of the night.  
  
And Gods, was he right.  
  
Upon entering the Headmaster's office as requested, he saw the other Head of Houses, standing and looking quite worried; Minerva especially, he noted. In addition to that there was Albus, and two others.  
  
The two unknown parties turned around in unison at the sound of the door closing and Severus felt an inexplicable fear wrench his gut as he recognized them.  
  
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley stared at the air he currently occupied, twin expressions of horror, sadness, and fear written across their young faces.  
  
Quickly, he scanned the other faces in the office once again, fruitfully looking for the third, bushy haired head in the trio.  
  
She was no where to be seen.  
  
"Severus, now that you are here, we may begin," Albus said wearily.  
  
Severus could not be bothered with pleasantries. He had to know where Hermione was, and why the two boys looked so forlorn.  
  
"Where is she?" he snapped, getting straight to the point.  
  
No body in the room looked surprised at hearing his disembodied voice so he vaguely noted that they were somewhat aware of his predicament.  
  
Albus looked down at his desk as if it held all the answers in the world. "We don't know," he simply stated.  
  
There was no need to specify who the 'she' they were referring to was.  
  
"Actually, we do," the Potter boy cut in, anger humming behind his quiet, harshly spoken words as he continued on to say, "She was taken."  
  
He didn't believe it. It couldn't be possible, Severus told himself.  
  
She wasn't gone.  
  
"Impossible," he countered, anger surging up at the boy who dared to tell him that she was in danger.  
  
The lying little sod, Severus mentally fumed, his anger growing to almost deadly proportions. The brat was doing it for attention, he told himself. Hermione was fine. She was safe in her dorm, sleeping and snoring off in la-la land.  
  
Hermione Granger was *not* in danger.  
  
"She didn't come back from your session," Ron said abruptly, looking down at his shoelaces as if he were merely talking to himself. "We started to worry when an hour went by, and then another. We went to go look for her, and the second we stepped foot outside the Common Room we knew she was in danger. We found her things, neatly laying there as though waiting for us. There- there were dark red-brown spots of- spots of-" he cut off, his voice thick with tears and his shoulders shaking as he attempted to suppress his sobs.  
  
"Spots of blood; her blood," Harry finished grimly.  
  
Spots of blood; her blood, the words echoed glaringly loud throughout Severus's mind, reverberating painfully.  
  
She was not fine. She was hurt. She was missing.  
  
She was bleeding.  
  
"We found this, laying on top of her potions text," Ron continued shakily in a poor effort to reign in his emotions.  
  
Silently, the young man held out a smooth piece of parchment in Severus's general direction. With slightly shaking hands, Severus took the proffered paper, quickly reading it. It didn't take long for him to read the one, ominous sentence.  
  
'May her death be a lesson to you.'  
  
His chest lurched and he repeated one word over and over in his mind.  
  
Death. Death. Death.  
  
They were going to kill her. She was going to die.  
  
No, he thought suddenly, his hand unconsciously curling into a fist around the menacing letter. He wouldn't let her die.  
  
"I must go," he said in a low, determined voice that brooked no refusal.  
  
"What? Severus, how can you leave at a time like this?" Minerva asked accusingly, blinking back tears of fear.  
  
Severus attempted to slow his breathing.  
  
In through the nose, out through the mouth, he focused.  
  
"I can leave quite easily, Minerva," he said after a long moment's pause.  
  
"Severus, I know you are worried for the girl, we all are-"  
  
"You know nothing, Dumbledore," Severus snarled, his anger and fear coming to head. "Each minute you stay here, plotting and planning to rescue her she is yet another minute closer to inevitable death. By the time you think of something, she will be dead," he spat, swallowing uncomfortably around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.  
  
"And so you are just going to leave and act like nothing bad has happened?" Harry exclaimed, jumping angrily and incredulously out of his chair.  
  
"Shut up, Potter, you insolent brat, before I snap you in half," Severus hissed.  
  
The room fell deadly quiet; no one dared to breathe when faced with the extent of the Potions Master's wrath.  
  
But why he was behaving thus was a mystery to all, except to him.  
  
And he could not deny it anymore. The emotions he was so unused to had swamped him the second he realized she was missing. He couldn't deny the facts when they were rolling in and smacking him on the face.  
  
"I must go," he repeated his earlier words with dignity and conviction.  
  
Albus looked calculatingly in his direction as if suddenly picking up on the undercurrent of Severus's thoughts. "And where must you go, Severus?" he inquired softly, somehow already knowing the answer.  
  
"I must go and save her," Severus replied, his voice sounding suspiciously thick with a depth of emotion that no one in the room had thought he was capable of feeling.  
  
And without so much as a by-your-leave to the rest of them, Severus spun on his heel and left the office. 


	11. Boredom

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): Alright then, readers! Thank you all for your reviews and I hope you like this chapter...and I'd like to state right now for future reference that I am only interested in reviews that can give support, express a fondness for my fic, or offer ways to better my plot/story line. I am in no way interested in hearing accusations that state that I've totally butchered my piece, or that anyone who likes this is either completely naïve, thirteen years old, or lying to spare my feelings. I find that those comments only inspire me to quit and not better my work, and they are completely uncalled for. I would also like to point out that no where in the previous chapter is the word 'love' written, therefore one cannot immediately jump the gun and claim that I've forced Severus into the deep end too quickly. I apologize for my rambling, but I am rather proud of my work and I will always stick up for it and defend it. I have absolutely no interest in any more indictments saying that I have just taken the most clichéd plot twist (Hermione's kidnapping)...after all, a person can take a completely clichéd, over done bit and breathe some fresh air into it. It's called reinvention and I am quite capable of it. Sorry, but that needed to be said. Here is the next chapter.  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 11 ~*~  
  
She was bored.  
  
Utterly, unfathomably bored to the point where she was tempted to call in one of her attackers and ask them what they thought the meaning of life was.  
  
Hermione sighed heavily, leaning against one wall where the stones dug uncomfortably into her back.  
  
Who would have thought that being kidnapped by the Death Eaters would be so dull?  
  
She had just walked out of the potions classroom when it happened. Lost in her own mind with visions of her surly professor and herself in rather compromising positions, Hermione had let her guard down for the first time that week.  
  
And of course, as it would happen according to Murphy's Law, that being the first and only time she had let her guard slip, it was also the exact moment they had chosen to strike.  
  
There had been three of them, she recalled. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, she was almost positive, but she couldn't exactly tell seeing as how they wore those eerily glinting silver masks.  
  
It was pathetic, she thought in self disgust, how easily they had managed to unarm and capture her.  
  
One minute she was slowly walking, thinking of her earlier session with the ever confusing Severus Snape, and then the next she was being held on either side, rather roughly she thought in mild annoyance, and being portkeyed away by a Muggle soda can.  
  
They threw her into a rather small, dank room/cell and that was that. She was left alone, no doubt to imagine terrible and horrible ways that they'd kill her.  
  
And they would be killing her, she doubtlessly knew.  
  
Hermione Granger was far from naïve and stupid. She had been taken so that they could exact their revenge for her comments against the Malfoy family, and Malfoy Senior and Junior would most assuredly demand her death.  
  
Well, at least after they had tortured and had their way with her.  
  
Hermione shivered at that thought, the fear she had forced at bay creeping up on her.  
  
No Granger, she mentally told herself, don't let the fear come and consume you; think clearly and logically.  
  
Clear blue skies, she chanted over and over in her head as some sort of mantra to sooth herself.  
  
It almost nearly worked.  
  
Desperately, she cast her mind around for a subject, any subject that would keep her mind off of her impending doom.  
  
Poor Harry, the sudden, unbidden thought came forward.  
  
Harry was going to go crazy with worry when he realized what had happened to her.  
  
Suddenly she felt guilty for being so stupid as to get herself caught. Her disappearance would cause many sleepless nights of fear and worry for many. She felt almost selfish because moments before she had been worrying about the harm the Death Eaters would have on her, and not what the harm done to her would have on others.  
  
She couldn't die, she realized in a moment of epiphany. Her death would only result in the same, horrible conclusion of Department of Mysteries disaster from almost two years prior.  
  
Harry and Ron, if left to their own devices, would come charging in to rescue her and would very nearly get themselves killed. And, if that did not happen, she would die and then her body would be sent to the Great Hall to greet Harry and Ron, breaking their spirit and then causing them to charge in for revenge.  
  
Silly boys, she thought fondly.  
  
So, she had examined the possible outcomes of her situation and reached her logical, sensible conclusion. She could not die for her death would essentially lead to Harry's downfall.  
  
Now, she thought almost smugly, she just had to come up with a way to escape, which was certainly much easier said than done.  
  
Obviously, she'd need a wand since hers had been taken first thing once they had captured her.  
  
But where could she get a wand?  
  
She had been left alone for the past few hours and she doubted anyone would bother with checking to see if she had settled in and all, so she really couldn't steal a wand.  
  
And then there was the fact that she would most likely be incompatible with their wands. The wand did choose the wizard, after all, and she seriously doubted that the wand of a Death Eater would approve of a Mudblood using it.  
  
So with that option gone, Hermione decided that she needed her own wand.  
  
Good, she told herself approvingly as her stark fear from before subsided while she thought rationally about how to get out of her predicament.  
  
Her wand had been taken from her at her capture, therefore Malfoy or one of his cronies was in possession of it.  
  
Hermione bit her lip and stared at the wall in thought. She was almost certain that they would have turned her wand over to someone with more authority, perhaps Malfoy Senior.  
  
Or maybe even Voldemort himself.  
  
Suddenly feeling quite cold, Hermione shivered.  
  
Funny, she'd nearly forgotten that she'd most likely have to see Voldemort sometime in the not-too-distant future. After all, he'd probably want a torture go at the best friend of Harry Potter. And at the very least he'd want to be able to taunt Harry and be able to claim that it was by his hand that she had been murdered. He was quite sick and twisted that way.  
  
So, Malfoy Senior or Voldemort were the most likely to be holding her wand captive.  
  
Alright, she encouraged her smarts; we've established consequences and the solution, now that's finish planning out how to make that solution come to life.  
  
Next problem: would she be able to retrieve her wand from either of them?  
  
She found that to be the easiest of questions so far.  
  
No. A simple, big, fat, resounding NO.  
  
She couldn't get her wand from Voldemort for the obvious reasons (he would kill her before she even stuck out her hand being the main one), and Lucius Malfoy, Hermione believed, would do just the same.  
  
In many ways, Hermione thought Lucius Malfoy was far worse than Voldemort could ever be. Voldemort, after all, started the idea, whereas Malfoy embraced it and would do anything his master said out of blind devotion and fear of his consequences.  
  
So, all of that given, Hermione re-analyzed her data and reached the only conclusion that could be had.  
  
"I'm in deep shit," she said aloud to herself, the sound of her voice sounding like thunder in the overwhelmingly quiet place. 


	12. Knight in Shining Armor

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): Thank you all for your wonderful, supportive reviews- I thoroughly enjoy reading them! This chapter is a bit short since I didn't want to keep you waiting too long and there might be a few errors since I wanted to hurry up and get it out today since I'll be back at school and in rehearsals starting tomorrow. The next chapter should (hopefully) come out within the week, and I hope you'll enjoy that one too! Thank you for your reviews and advice once again, and keep it up!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 11 ~*~  
  
The instant he stepped out the office, Severus seemed to snap out of the spell Hermione's disappearance had put him under. He was behaving very rashly, he realized, and had to take a few moments to calm himself and bring his thoughts to order.  
  
He couldn't very well go charging into the snake's den with his wand blazing, so to speak. That would be very Gryffindor, and he most certainly was not a Gryffindor.  
  
No, Severus Snape was a Slytherin and he had to behave as such.  
  
Taking in a deep breath, Severus forced himself to slow his pace and make his way back down to his rooms.  
  
He was going to rescue her, of course, but first he had to figure out how.  
  
There is time, he assured himself as he made his way to his rooms; think of a plan, and then go after her.  
  
He'd be foolish to go after her without a plan, he told himself. He was only being logical, rational.  
  
He was being a Slytherin, his rather befuddled mind claimed.  
  
Step one: find out where she had been taken. After all, he did need a destination and he couldn't very well scour the countryside with a picture of Hermione and ask random wizards, "excuse me, have you seen this witch?"  
  
So, if he was a Malfoy who had just recently acquired a Mudblood who had dealt him a serious insult, where would he put her?  
  
The answer, he found, was rather simple.  
  
Malfoy Manor.  
  
Good Severus, he congratulated himself while he muttered the password to his rooms and proceeded to enter them.  
  
He could do this, he told himself positively. He could sit by his fire and strategically plot his actions and calculate the risks involved, and then come to the best way to save Hermione.  
  
Step two: figure out how to get past the wards and into the Manor undetected. He didn't want to blow his spy cover, and therefore had to remain unseen.  
  
The wards were set to allow entrance to any of the Death Eaters, so he didn't have to worry about that. And a meeting would probably be in session, for the destruction of Hermione Granger would definitely be a Death Eater spectacle, therefore he didn't have to worry too much about his presence being known. The wards were sensitive and alerted Malfoy Senior whenever someone arrived, but since many Death Eaters would be expected, Severus would be able to enter undetected.  
  
So far, so good, Severus encouraged himself as he vacated his seat by the fire and began to pace, lost in thought.  
  
Step three: establish the best way to be unseen. That would be a pickle, Severus worried, creasing his brow as he quickened his pace.  
  
First of all, Severus was supposed to be out of the country working for Dumbledore, so it really would be suspicious if he just suddenly popped up at one of the revels. Perhaps, he could just walk around the Manor with one of his scowls in place- they always seemed to make people scurry away.  
  
He could always borrow Potter's cloak, he admitted, even though he loathed the thought of touching anything that boy had worn.  
  
But, he was a Potions Master, and a simple potion would...  
  
Severus came to an abrupt halt.  
  
"You daft idiot," he snarled, mentally smacking himself in the forehead. "You already are invisible, no one will see you."  
  
Growling, Severus racked an annoyed hand through his loose hair.  
  
The damned girl was going to be the death of him, he was positive.  
  
Forcing himself to focus on the matter at hand, Severus whirled and continued his pacing. So far, he knew where Hermione had been taken, how to get past the Malfoy Manor defenses, and how to infiltrate the Death Eater ranks unseen.  
  
The only thing he had yet to uncover is how to escape with Hermione unscathed.  
  
She, after all, he thought with a sneer directed at his previous foolishness, was not invisible.  
  
He had figured out his advantages if he was to go and save the girl, but he didn't know how to actually go about the 'saving' bit. He wasn't used to playing the role of knight in shining armor, or the part of a hero in some frivolous story. Severus was at a complete loss at how to go about rescuing her.  
  
Well, a bitter part of his mind sneered at him, maybe you shouldn't go then.  
  
Do not be obtuse, his more rational senses snapped back, he had to go and make sure Hermione would be safe.  
  
But, the nasty voice interjected, its whisperings acting like poison being dripped into his ear, how can you save her if you don't know how?  
  
Well, he thought firmly, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.  
  
And then burn it to ash.  
  
With that, Severus Snape secured his wand, being careful as to make certain his invisible robes hid it, and twirled dramatically on his heel, his robe billowing out behind him and making him look every bit the hero in some daytime drama.  
  
Smirking, Severus quickened his pace.  
  
Mayhap he could play the hero, after all, and rescue his little damsel in distress.  
  
He didn't fool himself, though. He still didn't have a plan of action; he had merely established what he could get away with.  
  
Severus could get into the Manor undetected, remain unseen if he pressed against the walls and stayed hidden in the shadows (he didn't want to run into some old friends, literally).  
  
But after that, Severus was relying on luck, and the fact that he hadn't really been a lucky man in life did nothing to quell his nerves.  
  
All he did know for sure was that Hermione Granger certainly meant a great deal to him, indeed, if he was willing to risk not only his cover, but his neck as well for her.  
  
That thought brought along an interesting question. Was he willing to possibly die for her?  
  
No, Severus Snape wouldn't die for anyone but himself.  
  
And yet, Severus continued his determined march out of the castle doors and into the biting cold night air.  
  
He was certainly willing to risk hypothermia for the girl, he thought sarcastically with a shiver.  
  
Perhaps it didn't matter whether or not he was willing to die for the girl, and all that mattered was that he was willing to risk quite a bit ensuring her safety.  
  
They probably had her locked up in some closet, letting her alone so she could dream many horrible scenarios that all inevitably ended in her rather painful death.  
  
Death; Severus despised the word.  
  
He could not allow death to claim her. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he couldn't.  
  
So he would go and save her, he concluded resolutely as he trudged on towards the Hogwarts gates where, once he had passed through them, he'd Apparate to Malfoy Manor, for better or worse.  
  
Any daft idiot knew that one could not Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, after all. 


	13. Last Will and Testament

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): Eep...I meant to get this out MUCH sooner, but school *shakes her fist at school building* well, school had other plans...But it's out now and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm sending it in without giving much time to editing it because I want you all to be able to read it ASAP, so please forgive some grammatical errors...thanks, and keep reviewing!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 13 ~*~  
  
Good God, she thought angrily, they could have at least given her a book to read.  
  
Working yet another pebble out from the precise ninety degree angle from where the wall met the floor, Hermione tossed it sharply at the door.  
  
Ha, she mentally crowed, feel my wrath!  
  
Feeling quite inanely pleased with herself, Hermione grinned before it abruptly turned into a scowl which she directed at her sorry self.  
  
Pitiful, she mentally spat harshly, only five hours of isolation and she was already losing it.  
  
She picked her nails nonchalantly since she was by then used to the fact that she couldn't see them. Her eyes had long ago adjusted to the almost complete darkness of the room (it was more of a closet, really, she reflected), and the fact that even if she had possessed a book she wouldn't be able to read it was now only a minor annoyance.  
  
Boredom ruling her idle thoughts, Hermione pondered what her funeral would be like. She only wished she could live to see it.  
  
It was a morbid thought, for sure, but Hermione had come accustomed to the idea of her impending death.  
  
Even death seemed like a minor annoyance to her now.  
  
But she couldn't die, she firmly reminded herself.  
  
Well, technically that was not true. She was human after all, and therefore quite capable of dying. She just didn't want to die.  
  
Which was completely natural, she rationalized. Who wanted to die? She was only eighteen for Merlin's sake. She couldn't die on the eve of adulthood!  
  
Perhaps she ought to dictate her last will and testament, just in case, though.  
  
Maybe if she asked her captors nicely they'd give her some scrap parchment and a spare quill so she could quickly jot down a few notes about who was to receive what.  
  
So lost in thought over the distribution of her possessions, Hermione didn't even hear the door unlock.  
  
She became aware of the menacing presence, however, when she felt a sharp kick to her side.  
  
With a painful gasp, Hermione blinked out of thought and squinted at the onslaught of light that assaulted her eyes as she looked up at the Death Eater.  
  
She didn't have to see his face from behind the ugly mask to know that he was sneering. "Drink up, Mudblood. We wouldn't want you to die of thirst now would we?"  
  
"Of course not, I'm sure you all have come up with a much more creative way for me to die," she murmured.  
  
"Oh yes, you may depend upon that," he spat, kicking her one more time in the ribs for good measure before he left.  
  
"What rude hosts," she half groaned, half whispered.  
  
That last kick added a cracked rib to the bruised one from the first kick.  
  
Shaking her head to clear her mind of the sharp, stinging pain, Hermione vaguely made out a goblet filled with water, seductively calling her name.  
  
With a slightly wobbly hand, Hermione reached out for the goblet before she could think better of it, raising it up to her lips.  
  
She was about to take a huge, delicious gulp when she suddenly recognized the signs.  
  
"It's a poison," she heard a voice remark barely above a whisper.  
  
"I know that," she snapped irately, throwing the goblet down, her throat now feeling drier than before. "Even a first year knows that water is not supposed to smell like nightshade. And that compulsion charm they put on the goblet to make me pick it up without thinking," she huffed indignantly, "well, I'd almost find the attempt cute if it weren't so insulting."  
  
"I know, the Death Eaters are generally a pathetic lot," the whispery voice remarked.  
  
"Too true, Professor," Hermione agreed.  
  
There was a long pause before the voice responded, "How did you know it was me, Hermione?"  
  
She shrugged her shoulders, shifting around to find a less painful sitting position. "Well, I'm hallucinating, but I haven't been poisoned. I wouldn't daydream about anyone but you, I think."  
  
"How flattering," he remarked.  
  
"Isn't it, though?" she replied with a grimace of slight pain.  
  
"Hermione, as much as I love our verbal repartees, I don't necessarily believe now is the most appropriate time," he drawled.  
  
"I think it's a perfect time, Snape. What else am I going to do? I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," she pointed out.  
  
"I'm not a hallucination. It's really me, Hermione," the voice claimed.  
  
"Oh sure, and Voldemort is a sugarplum fairy in a pink tutu," she threw back.  
  
"The sugarplum fairies wear purple tutus," was said in response.  
  
"Oh, right then," she conceded.  
  
"Hermione, it really is me, see," the voice began.  
  
Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a confident, calloused hand ever so carefully tilt her head up and stroke her cheek.  
  
She held her breath as he gently grazed over a scratch on her left cheekbone, holding back a hiss of pain.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she inquired, not willing to get her hopes up.  
  
The gentleness left his tone and the hand left her cheek as he sneered down at her, "I should think it was obvious, little girl. I've come to rescue you."  
  
Hermione felt a smirk stretch across her face. "How very Gryffindor of you," she noted.  
  
A rather distinct cough came in response and his voice sounded suspiciously tight as he proclaimed, "Yes, well, something had to be done."  
  
There was a long awkward pause before Hermione spoke again, "Well, get going then."  
  
"What?"  
  
Hermione sighed in annoyance. "Get to the rescuing, Snape. I'm sure someone will come to check up on me soon enough to see if the poison worked and I don't really want to be here when they get back."  
  
There was a distinct cough before she heard him slightly grumble. "I'm not exactly sure what I should do next," he confessed awkwardly.  
  
"Why don't you just whisk me off into the sunset- that always seems to work well for the other knights," she spat out in frustration feeling as though a lifeline had been tossed out to save her, but the rope had been severed from the boat.  
  
She was drowning and he was describing the water.  
  
"Quick, they're coming back," she heard him hiss as loud, thudding footsteps made their way to her ears.  
  
Hermione stood up for no particular reason, fear clenching her heart.  
  
But it wasn't fear for herself.  
  
"Y-You have to go. They can't find you here, they'll kill you, and I- the Order," she hastily corrected her slip, while at the same time she frowned in confusion pondering what she had been about to say first, "can't survive without you. Just go, Professor. I'll...I'll be fine," she beseeched unconvincingly.  
  
"I won't leave you here alone, Hermione. They won't find me; I'm invisible, remember?" he remarked dryly.  
  
Hermione took a shaky breath, holding out a shaky hand needing physical reassurance.  
  
Obediently he took it, and cradled her hand possessively against his chest. She felt his pulse race beneath her hand, and the persistent thump-thump grounded her. She sensed him moving closer to her, and at that moment, Hermione would have given anything to see his expression.  
  
To see his eyes glowing with a promise of what they could have.  
  
Of what they could be together.  
  
She only had to survive, and it would be hers, his heart sweetly sang beneath her warming palm.  
  
She could do this, she told herself, courage bubbling out from where it had earlier retreated to.  
  
Bloody hell, she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.  
  
"When this is over, Severus," she began in a low, steady whisper, not even aware that she had called him by his given name, "you and I will sit down and have a chat about certain things that have been left unsaid between us."  
  
She heard his response, his voice lowered several octaves to whisper one phrase that filled her as if he had sworn a vow with his very own blood.  
  
"You will live through this."  
  
She *would* live through this.  
  
Not because Harry and Ron would cry if she died.  
  
Not because her mother and father would resent her magical life if she was murdered.  
  
Not because Dumbledore and the Order would fail without her mind.  
  
And not even because she was too stubborn to allow Voldemort to succeed.  
  
She would live through this because Severus Snape had told her she would, and he would never forgive her if she disobeyed a direct order. 


	14. Stupid Gryffindors

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): There is no excuse for how long it has taken me to update, and I'm terribly sorry. All I can say is that when I posted ch. 13, I had half of this already written. But it felt wrong somehow, and I had to rewrite it three times before coming up with this...I hope you all enjoy, and I promise to update ASAP.  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 14   
  
It had been disastrous from the start of it, Severus Snape would later reflect.  
  
The Death Eater sent to retrieve Hermione had been severely angered and disappointed to see the goblet tipped over and the potion wasted, so she had been defiant and in trouble from the beginning.  
  
He had smacked her around, and she had taken it without cries and pleas, or even angered yelling.  
  
This incensed the Death Eater further, seeing as how the girl was denying him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.  
  
Severus smirked as he thought of it, inanely pleased at such a mix of Slytherin cunning and Gryffindor bravery.  
  
If there was one thing about Hermione Granger, she did tend to uniquely blend all of the Hogwarts's House attributes into one, entertaining package.  
  
She was as loyal as a Hufflepuff, as demonstrated by her friendship with Harry Potter through thick and thin. She studied more than any Ravenclaw, and she was as stubborn and brave as any Gryffindor. And then she tempered all of this with a sharp cunning brilliance evident since her first year with the solving his potions riddle; a sparkling intelligence that Salazar Slytherin himself had prided his House members upon.  
  
All in all, she wasn't just an entertaining package; she was an unpredictable one, which Severus became very aware of the moment she had been forced to kneel before the Dark Lord, quiet and obedient.  
  
He should have known from the start that something was off since she was so passive and compliant.  
  
But Severus hadn't really been focused on that. He had been more centered on the wand in the Dark Lord's right hand that was trained at Hermione's chest.  
  
It had happened all so fast. One moment they were sharing a rather private moment, and then the next she had been hauled from his grasp and then thrown at Voldemort's feet.  
  
They were in a dark room where the air was thick with malice. There were about ten Death Eaters in all that circled the quiet captive and their Lord, most likely the members of Voldemort's esteemed inner circle.  
  
"Lucius, you have a grievance with the Mudblood. Come forth and voice these complaints," Voldemort hissed, glowing red eyes of disgust never leaving the top of Hermione's head.  
  
Ah, so it was to be a mock trial, Severus sneered. How utterly disgusting to make amuck of the justice system.  
  
But, Severus thought, giving credit where credit was due, it would instill great fear in any captive's heart.  
  
Any captive, apparently, except Hermione Granger, who for all the world seemed entirely engrossed with the harsh, unrelenting stone floor beneath her knees.  
  
A figure clothed in deep black strode forward, bowing sharply to his master before straightening to shoot a look of hatred and loathing at the Mudblood.  
  
"This, girl, my Lord," the harsh, silky tones of Lucius Malfoy began in quite dignity with undertones of rage, "Has insulted the Malfoy name. She has breached the laws and etiquette of war by openly defying my son, and implicating him as the enemy. We at the house of Malfoy call for justice."  
  
A muffled snort came from Hermione, drawing Voldemort's scathing gaze to her.  
  
"What say you to this, little Mudblood?" he hissed dangerously.  
  
And for the first time, Hermione Granger looked up and locked eyes with the most evil wizard in the entire world. It was rather anticlimactic, really. She had heard so many gruesome descriptions of the man; she had feared a mangled monster that radiated power.  
  
But he did not live up to her expectations.  
  
He looked gray, and so thin that a mere breeze would be able to knock him over. He was old, she realized with a sudden, slightly amused start. And he was ugly.  
  
But the power was there, stretching and coursing throughout his wiry, thin frame.  
  
Belatedly, Hermione spoke, merely saying calmly, "All is fair in love and war."  
  
Red eyes narrowed still. "You dare defy me, Mudblood? You who are at my mercy?" 

Hermione slightly smirked.  
  
And Severus had known then that she was about to do something really stupid and utterly Gryffindor.  
  
And it was only the beginning of the stupidities she'd commit.  
  
"I am only ever at my own mercy," she demurred, looking back down at the floor in an action of casual dismissal.  
  
"Such impudence from such a fragile little girl," the Dark Lord sneered, nonchalantly rolling his wand around his hand in a clear, unspoken threat. "I could kill you here in now, Mudblood; what say you to that?"  
  
Hermione actually thought it over for a moment.  
  
He could kill her now and be done with it, or keep her alive, torture her, attempt to extract information out of her, possibly allow her to be raped, and then kill her.  
  
It wasn't that hard of a decision to make, really.  
  
"Alright then, have at it," she coolly responded.  
  
Severus's eyes widened in shock. Did she just really tell the Dark Lord to kill her?  
  
"I am not playing a game with you, Mudblood. I can and I will kill you," he shot back coldly, anger simmering behind his eyes and making their red color flare.  
  
Hermione felt fear tinge her cool facade. She hadn't really meant to be so lippy. But, she had been locked away in a broom closet for hours, contemplating her impending death.  
  
And she had accepted it.  
  
She could and most likely would die at Voldemort's hands at any moment, but that didn't mean she'd be submissive.  
  
If he was going to kill her, no matter what she did or said, she might as well speak her mind. She couldn't stand for it.  
  
She wouldn't stand for it.  
  
All of the hurt and pain she had felt throughout her years at Hogwarts came rushing back to fill her. The resentment, the pain, and the suppressed anger at the discrimination in the school's halls came flooding back to her.  
  
This was war—there were no rules.  
  
'We are at war within Hogwarts walls, no matter how much Albus Dumbledore wishes for it to be otherwise,' was what she had told Snape, that day back in the library.  
  
At the thought of Snape, Hermione felt slightly guilty. He had told her she would survive, but now that she was face to face with death, she wasn't so sure.  
  
Now that she knew what she was about to do, she severely doubted that she'd survive.  
  
"If you have your heart," she began, slightly scoffing at the thought of Lord Voldemort having a heart, "set on killing me, then I'll give you a better reason than that of the anger of a spoiled little brat who is simply upset that he can't even proposition a Mudblood," she spat, "I find it pathetic that you would take to inbreeding to preserve pureblood, especially when your own is not so pure. You are nothing more than a power craving hypocrite."  
  
Silence rang throughout the room, and Severus closed his eyes and felt his heart stop.  
  
She was going to die. She had just signed her own death warrant.  
  
Stupid, foolish Gryffindor, his mind raved as the thick, intimidating silence continued.  
  
What had she been thinking?  
  
Clearly, he sneered, suddenly angry at her for her idiocy, she hadn't been thinking.  
  
And now she was going to die, and he could not stop it. No matter how much he yearned to.  
  
Right when the silence became literally painful to Severus's ears, Hermione opened her mouth to stupidly continue.  
  
"And Harry is going to kick your arse," she added, just for spite.  
  
"We'll just see about that, little Mudblood," the Dark Lord snarled, finally able to speak beyond the utter rage and anger he had felt at her speech.  
  
"You know," Hermione began in a mock thoughtful tone, digging her grave deeper, "if your mother had been a Muggle, just like your dad, then I could call you a Mudblood."  
  
As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione heard the sharp, barking word, 'Crucio,' being hurled at her.  
  
Severus started forward without thinking the second he heard the curse spoken, but even as he went to her, he knew there was nothing he could do.  
  
And, damned if she didn't, but Hermione didn't scream.  
  
He could see her biting her lip to keep back her cries of pain, and blood was trickling from her lip, but Hermione Granger did not scream when hit from Voldemort's torture curse.  
  
And Voldemort looked none too pleased.  
  
"Beg for mercy, Mudblood, and maybe I'll kill you swiftly," he sneered, circling around her, and in turn, Severus as well.  
  
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, bit her lip, and tried to find purchase on the stone floor. It hurt so bad...it was all she could see, the pain. It felt as though she had been dipped into molding hot fire, and then into freezing ice. It felt as if she had a thousand, a million, paper cuts and salt was being rubbed into them.  
  
It felt as though she was going to die at any moment.  
  
And she would have, too, if Harry Potter hadn't burst into the room at that moment, conveniently refocusing everyone's attention to him.  
  
That was when the real disaster began, Severus noted. 


	15. Can it get any Worse

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): Hehe...don't you love cliffhangers? How about another one, eh?  
  
_MISTER CELLOPHANE_ _CHAPTER 15_   
  
Harry Potter was not one to sit by idly when those he cared about were in danger. He was a man of action.  
  
So when he had read that brief, chilling note that had endangered his best friend's life, he knew what he had to do.  
  
'_May her death be a lesson to you_,' the note had so effectively threatened.  
  
Well, Harry had thought once reading the words that were accented strategically with random spots of blood, he couldn't very well sit around and allow that to happen, could he?  
  
He refused to allow another person die because of him. His parents, Cedric.

Sirius...  
  
And now maybe Hermione...  
  
Who was to be next? Ron, Ginny...  
  
The list would never end unless he made it end. Everyone around him was in life threatening danger and that would only end when he faced Voldemort.  
  
And better sooner rather than later, Harry had rationalized.  
  
He was sick of being the pawn. Ever since his first year, Dumbledore and the Order had been molding and shaping him into a hero because of the prophecy. He'd been born to fight evil, and now was his chance.  
  
He wouldn't let what happened to Sirius happen to Hermione.  
  
Hermione Granger had been his friend since his first year, and they had grown considerably closer throughout the past few years. She wasn't like Ron. Ron was his best mate; he could make him laugh and smile about the stupidest, most inane things.  
  
But Hermione was like his sister.  
  
She understood him like no one else did. It was Hermione who had pulled him out of his stupor and depression after Sirius's death. It was on Hermione's shoulder he had wept on. It was Hermione who he had specified as his next of kin.  
  
She _was_ his sister, after all. Maybe not in blood, but everyone knew it. Hermione Granger had saved Harry Potter, who had been drowning in melancholy. She was his rock, his shelter.  
  
Hermione Granger had gotten him to realize just how important life was; how beautiful and vibrant it could be.  
  
She had gotten him to admit his feelings for Ginny. Without her, he'd never have found that spotlight of hope.  
  
He wouldn't let her die.  
  
And apparently, Snape wouldn't either.  
  
Harry hated the Potions Professor, but he did not consider himself above sneaking around and spying on the spy in order to save Hermione.  
  
After the meeting in the Headmaster's office, Harry had marched determinedly to his dorm and had taken out the long unused Marauder's Map. Then he had snatched his own invisibility cloak and had followed Snape the second his pacing dot had left his private quarters.  
  
With more stealth than he thought he was capable of, Harry had tailed the likewise invisible professor, glancing back down at the map every once in awhile to make sure he was a few paces behind him.  
  
Upon passing through the school's gates, Harry had heard the professor apparate himself to Malfoy Manor.  
  
That had proved to be a slight problem.  
  
Harry had yet to receive his Apparating license and the Ministry would know if he Apparated without a license.  
  
He had paced furiously for about ten minutes before he realized something.  
  
He didn't know how to Apparate, but he could make a portkey.  
  
He'd seen the Headmaster do it in his fifth year, and then again in his sixth and seventh. He knew the incantation, the wand movements, and the destination, and Harry doubted that the Ministry was able to keep tabs on all of the unauthorized portkeys. Dumbledore had never once gotten caught, after all.  
  
He could make a portkey, so he did.  
  
Using the nearest rock, Harry had activated the portkey spell and had ended up flat on his arse in the front hall of what he assumed to be Malfoy Manor.  
  
Securing the invisibility cloak around him, Harry rose and pressed himself up against the wall, unerringly imitating the earlier actions of Severus Snape.  
  
He followed the sound of talking, vaguely recognizing the angry hiss of Lord Voldemort and the soft, confident tones of Hermione Granger.  
  
He wasn't close enough to hear what exactly was being said, but as he drew near, Harry could make out a particularly enraged sneering voice hurl the word, '_Crucio_' at some helpless victim.  
  
And the only helpless person in the equation he could make out was Hermione.  
  
A red rage painted his gaze. How dare they? How dare they harm such a kind, understanding person who wanted nothing to do with their stupid war?  
  
Anger consuming all better judgment, Harry carelessly threw off the restricting cloak and burst into the room where he had heard the commotion from.  
  
Sure enough, Hermione was writhing on the floor, blood trickling from her lip from where she bit it in order to keep in her screams.  
  
Narrowing his eyes as surprised gazes fell upon him, Harry lowered his voice a few octaves to make his meaning and cold anger clear to all as he ordered slowly, confidently, "Let her go."  
  
Severus Snape flinched as he heard Potter speak.  
  
He had thought, no, hoped, that he had only been seeing things when Harry Potter had magically appeared. It was an apparition was what it was, he had tried to convince himself. A vision his frazzled mind had conjured up as the worst case possible scenario.  
  
But Severus was more than fairly certain that apparitions did not speak.  
  
The bloody, stupid Gryffindor, he raged to himself.  
  
He had stood a chance before, mayhap a slim, almost nonexistent chance, but a chance nonetheless. Severus had a chance to save Hermione, but now with Harry bloody Potter there...  
  
There was no way the Dark Lord would be able to pass up the opportunity to see the look of mingled pain and grief twist the boy's face as he watched helplessly as he killed his best friend.  
  
It was doomed; they were doomed.  
  
He was doomed.  
  
"Harry Potter," hissed the cold, calculating voice, "this is an unexpected surprise, but welcome nonetheless. I was just teaching this _friend_ of yours," he sneered, "some manners."  
  
Harry's lip curled in distaste. "I don't think you'd be the best teacher for that, Voldemort. After all, it's hardly polite to go about torturing and killing innocent helpless people."  
  
Severus mentally slapped the foolish boy. What was it with Gryffindors and not knowing when to keep their trap shut?  
  
From the ground, Hermione gave a slight groan, inaudible to all except Severus who still knelt by her. A wave of concern rushed through him, easily doing away with his annoyance. As silently as possible, Severus bent over her ear and whispered, softer than the smallest breeze of wind, "Hermione?"  
  
Her unfocused eyes opened sharply as she weakly answered, "Severus?"  
  
"It's alright," he assured her with a gentle brush of his hand against her forehead, "I am here."  
  
"You will let her go, and we will settle this," Potter's voice drifted over them.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened in recognition as she said loudly, confusedly, "Harry?"  
  
"Hermione, don't worry, I am here," Harry spoke to her, never taking his emerald green eyes off of Voldemort.  
  
Severus snorted in indignation as Potter unknowingly mimicked his earlier sentiments. Was that how he now sounded, Severus pondered. Like a foolish Gryffindor?  
  
It was definitely food for thought for later that evening; that was, if he managed to escape unscathed.  
  
"Harry, you idiot, you shouldn't be here," Hermione rasped, trying to sit up as she scolded her friend.  
  
Severus firm, invisible hand prevented her from doing so, much to her distress.  
  
"Don't draw attention to yourself," he hissed into her ear.  
  
"Harry," she said sharply, duly ignoring his warning, "you idiot, he's going to try and kill you."  
  
For a brief moment, Harry's eyes flickered to Hermione's and she saw a ghost of his incorrigible grin grace his lips. "Well spotted," he countered, amusement underlying his tones.  
  
"Idiot," she proclaimed, trying and failing to rise to her feet.  
  
"How charming," Voldemort sneered, taking two steps back so that he was now conveniently beside Hermione.  
  
Slowly, he stretched out his long, lanky arm towards her, causing Harry to stiffen and forget all amusement. "You will not touch her," Harry ordered, his voice confident and his wand steady.  
  
"Who's going to stop me- you?" Voldemort sneered; his hand snaked further down until he clutched a shoulder in an unwavering and surprisingly strong grip.  
  
Severus felt his heart run cold as all of the color drained from his face.  
  
It wasn't Hermione's shoulder that the Dark Lord's fingers were biting into.


	16. Yes, Yes it Can

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): I just truly love cliffhangers...now you all know why I was sorted into Slytherin!  
  
_MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 16_   
  
Time seemed to freeze as Voldemort tilted his head down and stared almost curiously at his fist that clenched what seemed to be air, but what felt like a solid, human shoulder.  
  
This, Voldemort thought to himself, was unexpected.  
  
"My, my, my, what have we here?" he sneered, tightening his hold on his invisible captive so as to prevent any attempt at escape.  
  
Severus squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat. His heart hammered in his ears and he could feel small beads of sweat borne from his nervous fear begin to form on his brow. This was not good, he told himself as he tentatively tried to pull away from the clutching hand.  
  
He did so in vain, and the fist only tightened in response.  
  
This was not good at all.  
  
Harry's eyes widened in realization as he watched the scene before him. _Holy crap_, he thought desperately, hopelessly, _Voldemort's got Snape_.  
  
Hermione looked up from her veil of thick hair that carefully shielded her expression of fear and shock. How could it all go so terribly wrong so quickly? It was simple when Severus was safe and away from her, and Harry was back at Hogwarts. Hell, she thought, it was even simple when Voldemort had used _Crucio_ on her. That was to be expected, after all, but not this. Not this comedy of errors; this shouldn't be happening.  
  
But it was happening, she recognized with horror. Voldemort's tight, firm grip held Snape at hand, and she was sure he was going to kill him rather painfully once he realized just who it was he held and why.  
  
"And who do we have here?" Voldemort hissed with his attention for once solely focused on someone other than Harry Potter.  
  
Severus mentally snorted in response. As if he was foolish enough to actually answer that question. Severus stubbornly remained silent.  
  
_Thank the Gods- he doesn't know who he is_, Hermione basked in relief. It wouldn't stop him from killing him, but Hermione would cling to any small thing that even remotely resembled hope at the moment.  
  
Hermione racked her still fuzzy mind for ideas or a way to solve their latest predicament, her eyes lighting up slightly as she stumbled across one.  
  
Voldemort would be angered at not knowing who it was he held, so he had to be told the person's identity.  
  
But it didn't have to be the correct identity. He was invisible, how would Voldemort know whether or not she was lying?  
  
Hermione looked up from where she still laid on the floor, willing Harry to catch her gaze. As is he could hear her thoughts, Harry pivoted his shocked face down to her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he saw the light that beamed only when she had a truly brilliant idea working around in that head of hers.  
  
With a slight nod of his head, Harry indicated that he'd go along with whatever it was she was about to do.  
  
Silently thanking the Gods that Harry knew her so well, Hermione turned her attention back to Voldemort and the invisible Snape.  
  
"Oh Gods- Ron! Please, he didn't do anything. Let Ron go! He didn't mean to be here; it was accident! Please, don't hurt Ron!" she pleaded, rather convincingly if she said so herself.  
  
Severus narrowed his eyes in disgust. Did she just call him Ron- as in Weasley? He was about to retort and make sure that she'd never forget who he was again when he finally realized what she had just given him.  
  
An identity other than his own true one.  
  
Good Gods, he was going to kiss his brilliant little know-it-all for her cleverness. After all, where one of the Golden Trio went, the others followed. It was the perfect alias.  
  
"How convenient that you accidentally reveal his identity, my dear," Voldemort sneered disbelievingly.  
  
Hermione mentally cringed. No one had ever accused the Dark Lord of being stupid. Indeed, homicidal maniac genocide mass murderer part aside, he was quite brilliant.

And she should have known it wouldn't be so easy to dup him.  
  
Severus, also, was mentally kicking himself. He should have known better than anyone not to get his hopes up when it came to the Dark Lord. If nothing else, Voldemort was a suspicious, mistrusting bastard, which is why it was so important to keep his identity secret in the first place.  
  
"Why don't we just see for ourselves who our little invisible friend is; remove the cloak, now," Voldemort ordered forcefully, his thin fingers tightening around Severus's cloak.  
  
But it wasn't the type of cloak the Dark Lord was thinking of.  
  
When nothing happened in response to his order, Voldemort's ugly reptilian features twisted in anger. "Are you deaf? Remove the invisibility cloak!" he thundered.  
  
Hermione began to panic with the visible growth of Voldemort's anger. Severus couldn't answer him without giving himself away, so he had no choice to hold his tongue. But, with each growing length of silence Voldemort was becoming more incensed at such a blatant display of disobedience. If someone didn't do something soon, Severus would die for a completely different reason than the one she had been trying to prevent.  
  
"He's not wearing one," Hermione muttered under her breath in an attempt to pacify the obviously furious Dark Lord.  
  
"Silence, Mudblood. You will speak only when spoken to," Voldemort sneered down at her before returning his attention back to the invisible intruder. "Reveal yourself this instant!"  
  
"Are you deaf?" Hermione parroted mockingly, suddenly snapping under the fear she felt for her annoying Potions Master. "He can't! He drank a corrupted potion and he turned invisible. He can't turn himself back!" she finished in a half-yell.  
  
Voldemort, in an uncharacteristic fit of violent anger, sharply kicked Hermione in the gut, effectively silencing her. "We soon shall see," he hissed, turning his attention back to Severus and lifting his wand while muttering, "_Rivelare_!"  
  
A sharp, piercing light cascaded over Severus's form, creating a mold of light around his invisible self. But the light disappeared too quickly to make out any of his features, and as Hermione's vision adjusted to the sudden light and then sudden darkness, she was thankful to notice Severus was still firmly unseen.  
  
"Interesting," Voldemort murmured to himself, obviously taken aback that his revealing spell, as powerful as it had been, had had no affect.  
  
Not one to be so easily fazed, Voldemort lifted his wand once again and proclaimed confidently, "_Te stesso esporre_!"  
  
Again, Hermione saw the same whitish light pour over Severus, only this time, the light was slightly tinged with grey, an indication that it was a slightly dark curse. As the light washed over him and receded once again back into the Dark Lord's wand, Hermione felt her gut clench in fear.  
  
But it was for nothing for Severus stood, invisible as ever.  
  
Anger flared to life in Voldemort's vivid red eyes, and in a deadly determined hiss, he commanded, "_Lo comando per te stesso Rivelare_!"  
  
This time, the light that hit him was completely black, signifying an extremely dark and most certainly illegal curse. Horrified, Hermione watched as the deep, fathomless black curse washed over Snape and seemed to seep into his pores, disappearing into his skin.  
  
Seconds ticked by in silence before the desired result began. It began slowly, much to their advantage. First, it was the tip of his left foot, appearing out of no where as though he was being inked in by the sick cartoonist that had penned their predicament. Then, his foot was there, followed by the tip of his right foot.  
  
Seeing the intruder slowly being forced to reveal himself, Voldemort smirked victoriously. "We shall soon see if you are who the Mudblood claims you to be," he sneered triumphantly.  
  
And with the utterance of that statement, chaos ensued.  
  
Hermione, desperation clinging to her as though it was the latest posh perfume, lunged forward and tackled the Dark Lord. It was a really stupid thing to do, she'd later reflect, and if it wasn't for the fact that a physical attack on her behalf had been so unexpected, it never would have worked.  
  
But luck, it seemed, was finally on their side, for the tact seemed to work.  
  
Voldemort toppled to the floor in a graceless heap with a look of slight surprise painted on his ugly features. In order to prevent the fall from being as harsh as it could have been, the Dark Lord tried to catch himself with both hands. Doing this, he relinquished his hold on Severus, and his presence was forgotten by the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself the instant his arse connected with the solid stone floor.  
  
Severus, for once reacting without thought, immediately untangled himself from the mass of Death Eaters who had all rushed forward to help their Master reclaim his feet, and furiously began searching for the head of bushy hair, keenly aware of the fact that the spell was traveling up his leg and that he was nearly half-way visible.  
  
It was in this confusion that Harry, too, leapt into action, striding forward with the intention of yanking Hermione up and getting them both out of there.  
  
The two men, coincidentally, reached the girl lost in the center of confused and angry dark wizards at the same time. Harry grabbed her left arm, while Severus gripped her right, and at the same time they forcefully pulled her into two different directions.  
  
With a yelp of pain, Hermione instinctively pulled away from both of them and, not seeing who it was that had grabbed her, she began to make a run for the door.  
  
_He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day_, she couldn't help but think.  
  
She limped her way towards the nearest door and was joined instantaneously by Harry Potter who slipped her left arm around his shoulder to help her up, and by Severus Snape who slipped his half visible left arm around her waist to propel her forward.  
  
They all seemed to have the same thought of escape, and they hurriedly ran through the door without pause or remark.  
  
It was actually quite remarkable- or terribly anticlimactic depending how one was to look at it. They had spent hours upon hours weekly, diligently searching for the cure to Severus's invisibility, and in the end, it was Voldemort who solved the problem for them. Of course, the solution to his predicament couldn't have come at a most inconvenient time, but it was poignant all the same.  
  
If the situation hadn't been so dire, Hermione would have stopped to laugh at the irony.  
  
But as it was, she was still being propelled throughout the manor by two strong males, both wanting nothing more than to make a hasty exit. Not that she blamed them, though. Hermione didn't really want to stick around to say goodbye to such rude hosts.  
  
Somehow they ended out on the front lawn, most likely Snape's doing since he knew the outline of the place so well, and before Harry could suggest making another portkey, Severus shot out his free hand around Harry's wrist and Apparated them back to the front gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
Without pause, Hermione was hustled forward onto the school's grounds, and the three of them ran as fast as they could up to the castle as though their very lives still hung in the balance.  
  
Upon swinging open the massive front doors, the two men finally stopped to catch their breath, after, of course, making sure the doors were firmly closed behind them.  
  
They made an odd group, Hermione faintly noted from where she sat on the floor, exhaustion and pain causing her body to tremble. She looked at Harry, who stood with his hands on his knees and gulping in some much needed air.  
  
And then Hermione turned her weary eyes to Severus Snape, whose black clad chest heaved as he stared down at his pale hands, his black onyx, clearly visible eyes wide in bemusement and disbelief.

Faintly, she wondered what Voldemort was thinking right then, and she couldn't help but to smirk at the thought of his snake-like face twisted in utter rage.

That was the last thought that drifted through her mind right before her body was racked with another spasm of pain and her vision clouded over into darkness.


	17. Would it be Worth it

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own it now...? That's because I DON'T own it!!!  
  
(A/N): I feel we're getting close to the end, folks...a few more chapters, maybe four, possibly more... And you'll be happy to note that this chapter is NOT a cliffhanger...however, I make no promises for chapter 18...  
  
_MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 17_   
  
"Suffering fuck," Hermione groaned the second her eyes reopened and she was assaulted by an insanely bright light.  
  
"Someone bloody well better close those damn curtains," she heard a sharp voice command heatedly.  
  
In response to the angry bark the curtains were closed and darkness flooded her vision once again. Blinking her weary eyes to clear her cloudy vision, Hermione brought a tired hand up to her pounding head. She heard the same sharp voice crisply, and somewhat more softly, utter the word, '_lumos_,' causing the nearby candles to flicker to life.  
  
Squinting her eyes at the soft golden glow the candlelight offered, Hermione slowly turned her eyes to the person who had spoken, her eyes taking a moment or two to adjust and refocus before she was able to make out Severus Snape's aristocratic, aquiline nose and sharp, defiant jaw.  
  
"My Gods, Severus, you're not invisible," she said dumbly, her voice harsh and strained from disuse.  
  
The slightest hint of an amused smirk curved his thin lips as he murmured, "Well spotted, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione felt her own lips turn up in response, but she was saved from replying by the amused tone of Albus Dumbledore's voice as he announced, "Why, Miss Granger, I see that you are finally up."  
  
Hermione turned her head sharply to Dumbledore, wincing slightly as the throbbing pain in her head pounded more insistently. "Headmaster, sir," she said in greeting.  
  
Albus smiled slightly as he looked at her. "My dear, it does my old heart well to see you awake and relatively unscathed from your ordeal. Tell me, I've heard from Mister Potter that you actually tackled the Dark Lord, is this true?" he asked, obviously finding some humor in the idea.  
  
Hermione felt her cheeks heat up in a blush. "Yes, sir, it is."  
  
"How ingenious," he chirped before he adopted a relatively more serious expression as he stated, "Miss Granger, I have dealt privately with the students responsible for your condition, but I hope you will understand that we cannot punish them to the extent of the law. Doing so would only create a war within these walls- something I wish to avoid at all costs."  
  
Hermione felt disappointment and age old bitterness wash over her. When was he going to wake up? When would Dumbledore stand up for those he claimed to be fighting for, instead of just protecting those they were fighting against?  
  
The fact that three of his students put one of their peers directly and purposefully into a position where death was imminent should have proven to him that there already was a '_war within these walls_.'  
  
But as Hermione stared up at her Headmaster, she had a realization, an epiphany of sorts. For all of his age old wisdom, Albus Dumbledore was really quite blinded to other people's faults. He attempted to find the good in all of those around him- even, when there was no good to be found.  
  
He would sit there passively behind his massive oak desk, smiling and idly twiddling his thumbs as he gave Draco Malfoy and others like him the knife to stab him in the back with, all because he wanted to shelter them and not face the cold, hard facts. Hermione finally realized exactly what Harry had meant by what he had told her the summer after his fifth year. Albus Dumbledore, for all his power and ambivalence, was still only human.  
  
And to err was human.  
  
She looked up at him, studying his hopeful, tired blue eyes, and felt pity wash over her. He was an old man who should only be concerned about his retirement, not about the fate of the world.  
  
And if he wanted to believe, even if _she_ knew it was in vain, that Hogwarts students were still safe, protected from the horrors of war, then that was the least she could do for a tired old man.  
  
"Yes, sir. I understand," she spoke softly.  
  
"I knew you would, dear. I knew you would," he countered, his wise eyes boring into hers as they shared a brief, jolting moment of understanding. "I will leave you to rest now, as I believe both you and Professor Snape have some unfinished business to discuss," he went on to say, his eyes beginning to twinkle in overtime.  
  
Hermione fended off a blush as she said, "Thank you, sir."  
  
"Thank _you_, Miss Granger," the old wizard returned once again, looking at her meaningfully before he took his leave, exiting the Hospital Wing slowly, with utmost dignity.  
  
But Hermione couldn't help but notice the slight falter in his steps, or the slight hunch of his thin shoulders.  
  
The ability to talk seemed to leave with him, and Hermione sat there dumbly in silence trying not to stare at her professor. He, too, didn't seem very inclined to breach the silence, and so they both sat there.  
  
Minutes ticked by and Hermione risked a glance at him, only to find his dark eyes already focused on her.  
  
Hurriedly, they both looked away, Severus coughing to clear his throat in an unusual gesture of nervousness.  
  
_Bloody hell_, she thought in annoyance at herself, _was she a Gryffindor or not_?  
  
"Err, Se- Professor?" she tentatively spoke.  
  
Severus seemed to shake off his train of thought. "Miss Granger?"  
  
Perhaps she should have actually thought of something to say before she actually opened her big mouth... "Uh," she faltered, attempting to think of something, anything to bring back the familiarity and casualness with which she had recently been able address him with.  
  
She had promised him a lengthy discussion on the event of their safe return to Hogwarts, after all. But, now that she thought of it, she had held little hope at that time for her return to the school.  
  
"I suppose you no longer need me, now that you're no longer invisible; there's no real need for the antidote now," she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, instantly giving herself a mental slap on the forehead as the words flew past her lips.  
  
Honestly, she made herself sound eager to be out of his company.  
  
"Yes, I suppose you are correct," he responded, his voice carefully neutral and his demeanor terse and clipped.  
  
"What I mean is," she hastily began to recover, "is that, well, that is to say you still have to research the Mister Cellophane potion itself, though, since it's not exactly up to par, and since we've already established a routine-" she broke of, helplessly trying to calm her racing heart.  
  
_Get a grip on yourself, girl, it's not like you're asking him out on a date to Madam Puddifoot's_.  
  
She shuddered at the mere thought.  
  
Snape looked back away from her, saying vaguely, "I suppose an assistant who is already familiar with the topic of study would be- beneficial."  
  
There was another moment's pause that seemed deafening loud to Hermione's ears. Must the man be so evasive?  
  
Bloody Slytherins.  
  
Hermione bit her lip nervously as she waited for him to further his reply. When it seemed an elaboration would not be forthcoming, Hermione sighed angrily and snapped, "Damn it all, can I still come and see you, Severus?"  
  
Severus snapped his head back to her and met her eyes. He pondered her question and his response for sometime.  
  
He knew what he wanted, and it was becoming more apparent to him that Hermione, too, wanted the same thing, but it wasn't as easy as that. There were rules, and laws, and serious repercussions for those who broke them.  
  
Not to mention that Voldemort was still looming over their heads, and he would no doubt want revenge on her and Potter for that night's exploits. And Severus knew who he'd ask to get it, seeing as how Severus, himself, was so conveniently placed there at Hogwarts alongside the duo in a position of respect and authority.  
  
He supposed he really only had one question to ask himself: _would it be worth it_?  
  
Would embarking on some new, unknown territory with Hermione Granger be worth all of the Hell that would surely break loose in the next few months because of it?  
  
Could he live with knowing that because of him each day might be her last?  
  
But then again, if her life wasn't in danger for that reason, another would always surface due to her not-so-subtle nature and her stubborn ways. She was, after all, a Gryffindor through and through.  
  
So was the potential pain and trouble worth it? Would a few nights of happiness be worth the possibility of even more nights of torture?  
  
Looking down at her heart shaped face, her vulnerable eyes, and her ratted hair, Severus came to his decision, which was, invariably, the only one he could come to.  
  
"Yes, Hermione. I want you to still come and see me," he said quietly with conviction.  
  
And as she smiled softly and radiantly up at him while slowly, shyly moving over towards him and brushing her lips sweetly against his for a brief, innocent kiss, Severus knew that even a stronger man would have succumbed.  
  
Tentatively he looped his arm around her. As he met her bright eyes he felt a sudden surge of Gryffindor optimism.  
  
It might not be so hopeless. After all, nights of torture was only _one_ of the possible outcomes.


	18. Good Old Times

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own then now...? That's because I DON'T, and I am not making any money from borrowing them either!!!  
  
(A/N): Here's chapter 18; I think you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it...and as much as Severus enjoyed playing it- hehe...  
  
_MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 18_   
  
Severus Snape stood proudly clad in his black dressing robe, fresh out of the shower. He caught a brief glimpse of himself in the mirror on his way out of his bathroom and froze. Warily, he moved to stand before the cold, lifeless glass, staring at his reflection objectively.  
  
He twisted his head to the side and viewed his profile head shot out of the corner of his right eye. His hair, which he had thoroughly cleaned while under the faucet, hung loose, dripping water down his back in tiny little rivulets. Even when it was wet it still looked greasy, but he supposed there wasn't much he could really do to change that. It was in the Snape family genes, unfortunately.  
  
His nose stood out the most out of all of his features, sharp and angular. He had broken it twice while playing Quidditch and each time the Mediwitch had not been able to perfectly align the bones. But it wasn't too bad, he supposed. It did make him look more foreign, and mysterious. In all actuality, he _was_ foreign, being the youngest and only child in his family born in England and not in Greece.  
  
His eyes were beady, he knew, or maybe they only appeared to be because his features were always scrunched up in a scowl of some sort. Whichever the case, they weren't really impressive, just plain, simple black eyes.  
  
He had thin lips, but, he was forced to admit as he studied them, they might not be so thin if he relaxed his jaw more instead of clenching it tight in annoyance.  
  
Turning his head back facing forward, Severus took a step back to look at the bigger picture.  
  
He wasn't really skinny so much as slim, he supposed. He was lean in the chest and he had broad shoulders. He was trim, just short of being undernourished. Maybe if he stopped skipping meals he would fill out more...  
  
Over all, Severus decided he wasn't too hard on the eyes and his reflection, for him at any rate, was a sight for sore eyes.  
  
"Well, I'm not a complete waste," he muttered cynically, eyes glinting in dark humor.  
  
"That's right, dear. Positive thinking!" the mirror responded quite cheerfully, causing Severus to scowl and storm out of the bathroom.  
  
Now he remembered why he never used a mirror in the first place.  
  
_Annoying useless blighters_, he thought angrily.  
  
Quickly he went into his room, shedding his dressing robe and beginning to don his teaching robes. He stopped pulling his left arm through the sleeve, though, when a silvery scar caught his eyes.  
  
Severus felt his face twist into a scowl and his lips thin. He would always be a waste because of the Dark Mark, he told himself bitterly, and it was foolish to think otherwise. He shoved his arm through the sleeve hurriedly. No one could find him attractive with that particular scar marring his pale flesh.  
  
_No one but Hermione_, the unbidden thought rose in his mind, calming him and causing him to slow his furious, jerky movements.  
  
Well, he supposed if Hermione liked him well enough then that was all that mattered. The rest of the world could gladly go to hell in a hand basket for all he cared.  
  
After slipping on his boots, Severus sharply stood tall, posture rigidly straight. He swiftly set his cuffs aright and took a deep breath. There was no more room for lollygagging, he told himself. It was time to get back to business.  
  
He strode out of his room and into his sitting area, briskly opening the door to his quarters and warding it closed. He purposefully walked the two corridors from his rooms to the classroom, harshly opening the door and slamming it shut behind him, causing all talking and laughter to cease instantly.  
  
In rare form he glided to his podium, turning sharply on his heel which caused his robes to billow out forlornly like little black flames stretching out hungrily to devour the unsuspecting. In top dramatic performance he fixed his Advance Potions class with his piercing patented glare of death.  
  
"The vacation is over. Open your books to page three hundred and ninety-four," he commanded in a disgusted, steely hiss.  
  
Half of the class reflexively obeyed out of fear, while the other half sat in shock at seeing their professor back after his prolonged absence.  
  
Ron twisted in his seat and whispered desperately, "I thought he was dead."  
  
"Ronald, what a terrible thing to think," Hermione snapped prudishly.  
  
Harry looked shamefaced when he admitted, "Well, it was a nice thought."

Apparently there was no love lost between Harry and Severus, even though they both had risked their lives for the same person only two nights before. Hermione smiled at the situation. Somehow, that thought was slightly comforting.  
  
"Mister Potter, I don't hear you reading," Snape snapped, his eyes taking on a suspicious glint.  
  
_He had missed this_, Hermione realized with a slightly amused start.  
  
"Sorry, sir," Harry mumbled, lifting his book up and pretending to read the text.  
  
"We shall be starting a new unit; although, most of it does pertain to the potions you should have been brewing in my absence. I think that twenty points from everyone in this room shall suffice for failure to notify a substitute professor of our current curriculum. Now, who can tell me about the _Invisibilidad_ potion?"  
  
There were a few hopeless mutterings but no one was truly brave enough to raise their hand.  
  
"Anyone...? Anyone...?" Severus drawled, looking from student to student and piercing them with a thoroughly disappointed glare.  
  
Tentatively, Hermione raised her hand.  
  
"Ah, Miss Granger, care to enlighten your peers?" he smirked.  
  
Clearing her throat, Hermione spoke in what Harry and Ron had dubbed her 'lecture' tone. "The _Invisibilidad_ potion is the most generic potion for invisibility. It was created by the Spanish alchemist named Alfonso Cortez in the year 648 AD. The two base components are dragon's breath and crocodile tears-"  
  
"That's quite enough, Miss Granger," he snapped, stiffly turning to face the black board in order to hide his amused smile while simultaneously reaching for the white piece of chalk, stiffly scratching out the key points in her speech while proclaiming, "That'll be five points from Gryffindor for verbal plagiarism. I see that my absence hasn't forestalled your attempts at memorizing your potions text. Who can tell me the necessary precautions for brewing this potion? Anyone? Anyone?" Severus trailed off, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed movement from a certain student. "How about you, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
Ron froze, his hand frozen halfway to his mouth holding a partially eaten chocolate frog. Guiltily he quickly dropped his hand and stashed the sweet. "Err, um-"  
  
"Incorrect, Mr. Weasley, and twenty points from Gryffindor for eating in my class; this is not the Great Hall and I have no desire to see your atrocious table manners," he snapped before continuing on to claim, "This potion is known for its complexity and simplicity at the same time. The process itself is relatively easy, I'm sure it is within your capabilities," he sneered. "Now, what are the precautions?"  
  
Again, only Hermione raised her hand.  
  
Severus sighed. "The mentality of this class has severely fallen below even its normal level of stupidity," he spat in sharp rebuke to those who knew nothing about such a standard potion. "Miss Granger, the answer if you will, and do try to keep it brief," he sneered at her.  
  
It was so odd, Hermione reflected, that the man she had kissed just one night ago, was now staring rather contemptuously at her. She didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused.  
  
"The preparation is simply a matter of what absolutely may not be present during the brewing. For one, chocolate, should it happen to fall into the potion," here, Severus shot a pointed, disgusted look at a shamefaced Ron, "Would result in disaster. Dragon-hide gloves are to be worn at all times because skin oils may alter the molecular structure of such a sensitive potion. Even the room temperature must not exceed 75 degrees during the brewing process. There are also preparations necessary for the ingredients. The snapdragon petals, for example, must soak in rain water for precisely four minutes and 57 seconds before use-"  
  
"Miss Granger, your lack of thoroughness is surprising," Severus abruptly rebuked her into silence, "You have omitted a very important fact in your lecture. The 75 degrees the room must not exceed is 75 degrees _Fahrenheit_, as opposed to _Celsius_. Such a callous mistake could have resulted in the untimely deaths of several of your classmates. That's five points from Gryffindor and a detention for reckless endangerment of your peers. You will meet me here precisely after dinner, and hopefully at that time I may be able to stress upon you the importane of classroom safety percautions," he commanded, carefully schooling his features into impassive indifference when he saw that delightful little spark flare to life in her eyes.  
  
Really, it was almost indecent how fetching she looked when angered; so in reality, he attempted to justify, it was all her fault that he felt the need to keep provoking her so.  
  
He smirked to himself while outwardly he sneered at his class. "I suggest you make use of those textbooks in front of you, and begin your brewing. Potions will be bottled and placed on my desk before class is over. A failure to correctly brew the _Invisibilidad_ potion will result in a penalty essay of four feet detailing the importance of brewing precautions for this potion, as well as a deduction of thirty points from that student's house," he sneered, quite pleased with himself as he saw the worried, insecure expressions on the faces of many students.  
  
He allowed them to simmer in the implications of his statement before he abruptly snarled, "What are you waiting for? Get to work. I expect total silence during your brewing. I want to be able to _hear_ you reading."  
  
As if time had finally caught up with them, the students snapped into their places, thoroughly reading their open textbooks and preparing their cauldrons.  
  
And sure enough, by the time he dismissed the class, there was not a single person who had failed to concoct the correct potion.


	19. It's Certain that it's Uncertain

Disclaimer: Alright, if I didn't own Harry Potter and other related characters in the previous chapters, then why would I suddenly own then now...? That's because I DON'T, and I am not making any money from borrowing them either!!!  
  
(A/N): This is it my friends, the LAST chapter! It may seem a bit abrupt, but I know in my heart of hearts that this is where the story is meant to end...besides, a sequel is currently being outlined and drafted, so I have to leave SOME loose ends. I'd like to thank everyone so much for their wonderful reviews...I never thought when writing this story that it'd receive any reviews, and I'm so happy that I was wrong! Thanks again, and look out for a sequel!!!  
  
MISTER CELLOPHANE CHAPTER 19   
  
"I don't know whether to feel bad for you, or be happy for you," Harry remarked pensively as he studied the piece of potato on his fork.  
  
Hermione frowned in bewilderment when she realized the statement had been directed at her. "Um, how so, Harry?" she asked, clearly, and rightfully in her opinion, confused.  
  
"Your detention," he elaborated in seeming innocence. "Should I lament about Snape being a great greasy git for giving you a detention on his first day back, or should I smile and tell you not to have too much fun with him?"  
  
Hermione choked on one of her baby carrots. Coughing and sputtering, Hermione anxiously looked around them, sighing in relief when she noticed that Ron and her fellow Gryffindors were engaged in a very heated discussion about Quidditch and its many virtues. Turning her attention back to Harry, Hermione tried not to scowl as he pretended to be thoroughly engrossed with his meat and potatoes.  
  
"Why, Harry, whatever do you mean?" she asked pointedly, deliberately being obtuse. If Harry wanted the answer he was seeking then he would have to gather the stones to ask the correct question and not beat around the bush.  
  
Harry finally looked away from his dinner and gave her a highly exasperated look that clearly stated that he knew what she was doing. "What I mean, Hermione," he stressed her name purposefully, "Is that you and Snape seem to have gotten pretty friendly during those weeks of working on that botched potion."  
  
Hermione blinked owlishly at him. "Well yes, Harry, it seems so," she affirmed without going into detail.  
  
Harry became even more annoyed when it appeared that an explanation would not be forthcoming. "Hermione, don't be like that. You know this is my way of asking you if I should be staying awake at night worrying about you, or if I should just be happy that you and, er, Professor Snape are happy, erm, together."  
  
Hermione let her expression soften when she was faced with his obvious discomfort and concern. Taking pity on her best friend, Hermione smiled softly, placing a gentle hand on top of his while she replied, "Be happy, Harry."  
  
Harry gave her a lopsided grin that appeared to be more resigned than anything else. "Well, I can't say I'm happy with your choice," he pouted, his eyes briefly shooting up at the Head Table where Severus Snape sat, glaring at the Hufflepuffs. "But, well, I guess I can be happy if you are."  
  
"That's the spirit, Harry," she said, smothering a chuckle at his distaste while dropping him an easygoing wink before she followed up where his gaze had went.  
  
She had to smother another chuckle when she saw a few of the Hufflepuffs dare to meet Severus's eyes only to hurriedly look away in a fright when he lifted an inquiring brow in response to their boldness.  
  
Before she could look away, Severus turned his fierce gaze to her, almost as though he had known she had almost laughed at him.  
  
Completely unfazed, Hermione quirked her head and studied him, almost daring him to glare at her while in the back of her mind she wondered what was so intimidating about the man. Perhaps the intimidation disappears after kissing him, she pondered objectively.  
  
They stared at each other no longer than five seconds before Severus sharply inclined his head to her in stiff recognition, wisely forgoing his glare. Pushing his chair back, Severus rose to his feet and swept out of the hall without another glance at her.  
  
Hermione sighed, knowing full well that was his way of saying that it was time for her detention.  
  
Taking one last bite of her roasted potatoes, Hermione rose and mentally prepared herself to enter the snake's den.  
  
"Hermione, where are you going?" Ron asked, his attention leaving the discussion when he saw her stand.  
  
"To my detention, Ron," Hermione replied.  
  
"Detention," he muttered disgustedly, thoroughly angered on her behalf. "How dare he give you a detention after all you have been through?"  
  
Hermione bit back a fond smile. "It's alright, Ron. I'm fine and perfectly capable of putting up with Snape for one night."  
  
Harry snorted and vaguely mumbled something along the lines that it was fine if she 'put up,' as long as she didn't 'put out'.  
  
Without so much as a pause, Hermione swung her bag onto her shoulder, making sure it gave Harry a solid thwack on the head.  
  
"Ow! What'd I say?" Harry asked indignantly, although the slight twinkle in his eyes let her know he was amused by her violent reaction.  
  
"Oh, goodness Harry! I'm really sorry about that," she said so sincerely that it was obvious she had hit him on purpose.  
  
"Right," Harry drew out skeptically, rubbing his sore head for show.  
  
"Well, I better go now. You know how Snape gets if you're late," she said, smiling as Harry attempted to smooth his hair.  
  
"Alright, Hermione. Be careful," he bid, looking intently at her so as to say, 'You just got back from a visit with the Death Eaters, there's no need for you to see them again.'  
  
Hermione smiled again. "Bye guys," she said, giving Harry a slight nod that told him she'd be careful.  
  
She left the Great Hall after that, slowly making her way towards the dungeons while smiling secretly to herself. No matter how much they got on her nerves, Hermione still knew she had the two greatest guys for best friends.  
  
Maybe she ought to get them really great, big, expensive Christmas gifts this year, she idly pondered.  
  
So lost in her thoughts, Hermione wasn't aware of anyone else being in third corridor hall until she bumped into them. Staggering back a few steps at the sudden impact, Hermione barely managed to keep herself from falling onto her arse.  
  
"Watch where you're going, Mudblood," a cold, nasty voice sneered superiorly.  
  
Hermione felt her blood run cold as her slightly befuddled mind registered the voice. It was so much like his father's, she realized with a slight start.  
  
"Malfoy, a pleasure as always," Hermione finally retorted sarcastically, looking up to see the familiar sneer curling his lips and the customary goons standing just a step behind him.  
  
"I know, Granger, but please control yourself. I don't want a Mudblood like you throwing yourself at me," he drawled.  
  
Hermione narrowed his eyes. Wasn't he the one who had started their feud, the one who had tried to proposition her?  
  
"If I ever end up throwing myself at you, Malfoy, it'll be to rip that nasty sneer off of your face," she spat angrily in disgust.  
  
"Watch your words, Granger. We remember what happened last time you spoke without thinking...my father sends his greetings, by the way. He's anxious to see you again."  
  
"I'm sure," she drew out. "But you may tell your father, and your Master, as well, that the next time I see them they'll be looking up at me from the flat of their back, seconds away from death."  
  
Draco Malfoy sputtered, resisting the urge to draw his wand. He glared at her more poisonously for that remark, and she glared back.  
  
They stood there facing each other in the empty corridor, the battle lines clearly drawn between them, both on the opposing side.  
  
Dumbledore could deny it all he wanted, but at that moment, the fact that they were at war within Hogwarts was all too clear.  
  
"This isn't over, Granger," Malfoy said, lowering his voice a few octaves, the sneer suspiciously absent from his voice.  
  
"It never will be, Malfoy," Hermione responded just as surely and sinisterly as he had spoken.  
  
This was bigger than their school arguments, their petty disagreements that resulted in name-calling and the sneering. They weren't making empty threats; they were making a promise, a vow.  
  
And with that realization, Hermione swept past them dismissively and continued her way to Severus's office, fighting the urge to run. Gods, it was no longer just a spat between her and Malfoy, it was a battle.  
  
When she made it to his office, she was still frowning darkly feeling strangely sad and despondent.  
  
"Hermione, what is it?" Severus asked as he glanced up and saw her expression.  
  
In terse, clipped words, Hermione relayed what had taken place.  
  
"It won't end, truly, will it Severus? Even if we beat Voldemort, and imprison his followers, it still won't die then, will it?" she asked quietly, feeling that voicing the question made her vulnerable.  
  
Silently, Severus rose and stood behind her, quietly reaching out his hands to draw her to him. "No, Hermione, evil never dies," Severus replied, his years of knowledge and experience shinning through his words.  
  
"Then what's the point?" she asked bitterly, glaring into space.  
  
Severus hesitated for a moment before making his decision. Silently, he entwined one of her hands in his larger, calloused one. "This is the point, Hermione," he spoke softly, giving her hand a tight squeeze so as to show her what 'this' was.  
  
"It's going to be hard," she said, leaning her head comfortably back and against his chest.  
  
"Everything worth having is difficult to achieve," Severus retorted, calmly, wisely.  
  
"The Dark Lord will call you to him as soon as he knows that you're back from your 'mission.' He will want to know what it was," Hermione whispered, fear tingeing her quiet words.  
  
He already knew this, of course, and said in response, "Dumbledore and I will think of something. We always do."  
  
There was a slight pause then, Hermione yawning as she snuggled a bit closer to him. "You gave me detention," she abruptly accused.  
  
Severus smirked as he brought his arm up and around her. "Yes, I did," he said shamelessly.  
  
"Prick," she mumbled.  
  
Severus chuckled, completely unsympathetic. "Yes, but I'm your prick," he said, the unusual fondness he felt surging through him and making his voice sound hoarse and gruff with an unnamed emotion.  
  
There was yet another moment of silence in which the world seemed to stop rotating to allow them that small minute of peace. But inevitably, time caught up with them.  
  
"There's nothing else we really can do besides fight," Hermione remarked faintly, tiredly.  
  
"Yes, Hermione. In the end, that's all we can do," Severus affirmed, holding her closer to him.  
  
They stayed in that pose for a long time, the uncertain future still lurking over the horizon, but appearing to be worlds away for the time being. 


End file.
